


Bitter Sparks

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Ready For The Siege [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse of Norse mythology, BAMF Natasha, Domme Natasha Romanov, F/M, Femdom, Hostage Situations, Loki Angst, Manipulative Loki, Mild AOS crossover but no need to have seen that series, Protective Natasha, Time Shenanigans, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki had pissed off a great many entities throughout Yggdrasil. It was only a matter of time before one of them decided it was time to pay for his crimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Manipulation

When Natasha arrived to her debriefing with Sitwell, Director Fury was there as well. She kept her expression neutral, though she had to wonder if this would be some kind of witch hunt because of Loki's involvement. Dammit.

Natasha sat in her usual seat in front of them. "Agent Sitwell. Director Fury. I filed my report this morning," she said with her usual even tones. "What will I need to elaborate on?"

Sitwell sat back, a slight smile on his face. On Coulson's face, a similar smile made him seem harmless and approachable. On Sitwell's face, it gave him a vapid look. Natasha knew full well how smart he was, and that she couldn't relax her guard in the slightest. "Start with the ballroom in Andorra when Loki walked in with you."

Of course she had been followed on that op, watched to see who she made contact with. She had known that, because she had requested it. There wasn't always a good way to relay information regarding buyers and suppliers in that kind of situation, so having SHIELD plant a few agents in the service staff would allow them extra eyes to pick up and relay who she talked to. Knowing that, Natasha had omitted several important details about that night, mostly about what had happened prior to her arrival at the party. She had meant it when she told Loki that her deal was a personal one, and SHIELD wouldn't be involved.

"As I stated in my write up," Natasha began in a businesslike tone, "Loki approached me first, wanting something to distract him. I assume boredom or some kind of argument, but he never said and I didn't ask. I had a job to do, and he wasn't part of that."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Sitwell began.

Fury didn't appear willing to wait for Sitwell to get to the point. His stony gaze was already fixed on Natasha. "What did Loki want?"

"A diversion," Natasha lied. "He took Sarkissian's phone without her knowing it so I could look at it, then put it back. He watched me plant the beacons in her suite. And when I asked him to send the data back here, he did." She shrugged, keeping her straight face on. "From what I gather, he has few outlets left to pass the time."

"Can we use him?" Fury asked.

"No."

This seemed to throw Fury. "No? Why not?"

"We cannot guarantee his cooperation. He's too volatile, too self-centered and erratic. Think of him as even more egotistical and selfish than Tony Stark." That wasn't a fair assessment of Tony, and she knew it, but Fury wasn't fond of him.

The comparison did the job. Fury backed off with a look of disgust on his face, and Sitwell leaned forward to take over the debriefing. "So why has Loki set his sights on you, Agent Romanoff?" he asked in his carefully neutral tone of voice.

It made her miss Coulson fiercely. Even his neutral managed to convey some kind of personality, and Coulson knew when rules and regs didn't matter anymore. Natasha was capable of just about anything, and would do just about anything, so it was insulting to treat her like an entry level SHIELD Agent.

"Because he hasn't broken me, and he can't figure out why."

Sitwell blinked, and Natasha mentally added it to her tally of "Things I've surprised Jasper Sitwell with," which was far too easy to do. "Is that so?"

"Exactly so," Natasha replied. "The entire plot to derail my credibility with SHIELD and the Avengers failed. He has no backup plan. He has no allies. Half of the alien races he's come into contact with want to kill him. He's egotistical and burns every bridge he crosses." She looked from Sitwell to Fury. "It is not safe to even consider working with him in an official capacity. He is not an asset, but he can be mined for information."

"Mined how?"

She had thought about that when her deal had been struck. Of course, trying to explain it without mentioning said deal would be an interesting dance. "He needs it to be a game. He has to feel superior, that he's dominating us in some way. Labeling him an asset puts him on a lesser level, he'll never accept it. But if it's a battle of wits, where we look foolish next to him..."

"Then he becomes a show off. He's teaching humans a lesson," Sitwell guessed.

"Precisely," Natasha said with a nod. "He's a megalomaniac without a plan."

"Dangerous. So how do we contain him?"

"Keep him entertained," Natasha told him. "He was intrigued by the magical sleight of hand, but bored with the search of the suite. There are some things we do that just will not appeal. So it's maneuvering him very carefully."

"You're the only one that has ever given me an assessment like that," Fury said, turning back to face Natasha with a grim expression.

"Thor still has hopes that Loki will be brought back into the family. Frigga will forgive him just about anything even as she condemns his actions. They're hardly unbiased opinions."

"You aren't unbiased either, are you?" Sitwell asked.

"I don't presume to be, but I don't have any illusions about him anymore, either." She shrugged negligently, though inside she was fuming. So much for her opinion being valued here. Fury had called her their Loki expert; after what had happened six months ago, was he rethinking that? If so, then she had no credibility on this front after all.

"No, she's right," Fury told Sitwell. Natasha could internally ease up a bit. "You've gotten close enough to him on several occasions to see how he works. You know what matters to him, how to play him. It also means he can play you, but you did understand the risk involved." He sat down across from her, lips compressed tightly together in displeasure. "I can't ask you to put yourself out there without backup, but we have no other way to contain him."

"I understand," Natasha said with a nod.

"Unofficial operation," Fury told her, then looked at Sitwell. "It doesn't leave this room. The Avengers probably have a bead on some of his actions, we can't help that. But we can probably use that to monitor his movements. Loki is dangerous, and if we can't control the threat, we have to at least minimize it."

Natasha nodded, and Sitwell had to take a breath before nodding as well. She almost felt sorry for him, but he didn't reach Level Nine clearance without making a few unpleasant decisions along the way. "I'll contain him as best as I can."

"Good. Dismissed."

She left without a backward glance and headed for Avengers Tower. She wanted to get in some range time to clear her head, but for the moment wanted to be off of SHEILD grounds. The surveillance felt cloying now, and she wasn't sure who she could trust. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and she didn't think it was Loki's influence. Hel had eliminated his spells, so it was not some kind of subtle trickery meant to isolate her. No, this was her own suspicious nature and need to be in control.

Clint was at the range with pistols of his own. "Competition?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Why not?" she replied with a smile, sliding into the next lane. Their usual camaraderie was a balm and welcome antidote to the earlier tension. "Did you have to file a report?"

"Luckily, no. I hate that shit," he answered with a grin. Once her headgear was on, they lined up their paper targets and started to fire. It was an easy back and forth, and usually there was no clear winner with their competition.

When the targets were returned for the eighth time, Clint removed his headgear. Natasha caught the movement and did the same. "Are you okay?"

"As well as can be expected."

He frowned at her, not liking that answer. "Tash..."

"No, really. I mean it. I'm all right. I'm just a little worse for wear from getting out of Andorra, but the rest helps with the healing."

"I'm not talking about that."

Natasha sighed. Of course he wasn't. "Clint, I'll be okay."

"Are you sure this deal is worth it?"

"Do you even want to know the mechanics of our deal?" she asked with an arched brow.

"Oh, hell no. But I want to know if _you_ are okay with it."

He cared about her, and she cared about him in return. It was probably as close to love as either of them were capable of, and served as her comparison for all other relationships in her life.

Putting down her weapon, she took his hand in hers and for good measure laced their fingers together. She smiled at the feel of his calluses; they were all wrong for guns, and those weren't his weapons of choice. He likely was in the range only to feel closer to her. "I've still got you, as you've pointed out. So I'm okay."

Clint nodded, lips curling into a smile. "Good. Don't know how far I'd get in taking him down if he ever hurt you again, but you know I'll try."

"Of course you will."

"He hasn't tried warping your mind, has he? You were afraid of that..."

She shook her head. "No. He's using different tactics now, but those fall under those details you really don't want to hear about."

Clint actually laughed at that, shaking his head. "Only you could make managing a psychopathic megalomaniac with godly powers sound easy."

Natasha smiled back. "By now, I think it actually is getting easier."

"At least you use those powers for good," he snarked.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha disentangled their hands and picked up her Glock, pointing it at him playfully, her finger over the trigger guard. "Don't make me shoot you, Barton."

He laughed again. "Hey, want to take the FNK back? I hate this thing."

"I told you, change the grips. Or wear the shooting gloves I got you. It's not going to be as comfortable as the bow grip."

Snorting, Clint shook his head. "I tried the other grips. They suck just as much. It's the design of the thing, and I don't have the patience you do to try to order custom ones."

"Then take the Glock and I'll take the FNK."

"Oh, hell no. I hate the angle on the grip."

"Big baby," Natasha teased, grinning at him.

"What? I like my bow."

"That was custom made to fit your hand," Natasha pointed out.

"Tony may have made a few upgrades, too."

"Of course he did," she said, shaking her head. "And I'm sure if he asked, he would make some kind of modification to my guns or exploding bullets of some kind."

"Just ask. You know he loves tinkering in his shop."

Still smiling at him, Natasha shook her head again and took the FNK from him. "I like these as they are. Maybe the flash discs could use an upgrade, though."

"That's the spirit," Clint replied. "Feel better?"

She didn't bother to ask how he knew she had felt rattled prior to coming to the range. Some things they simply had a feel for by now. She simply nodded, her genuine smile in place. "Yeah, I am. Thanks."

"Anytime, Tash, you know that."

"Yeah, I do." She started putting away the weapons, smile still fixed on her face. She did know that he would always have her back and trust in her. It was still good to hear it every once in a while, and he knew that.

***

Amora had been born in Asgard, and had been gifted in magical arts. She had a natural talent to it, which brought her to attention of the greatest teachers on Asgard. Karnilla was the most sought after, and took on so few students. She had trained Frigga, Freya and a lot of the other greats in Asgard. Karnilla had ultimately deemed Amora too undisciplined to go further with her studies. Furious, Amora left Asgard in search of other teachers and different esoteric disciplines to prove that she was a worthy adversary if not a worthy student.

She acquired several masters by seduction after leaving Asgard. It was a ploy that usually worked, as she had an ample bosom, generous hips, and flowing blonde hair that she held back with a green helm. She also usually dressed in deep, forest green to highlight her coloring and figure. She had no problem showcasing her assets and flashing her thighs above her boots to distract adversaries. Sometimes she wore long green gloves, sometimes she wore bracers that left her palms and fingers free; some spells did need finer gestures in order to be cast correctly, and she didn't like the feel of the gloves for those.

Most of her known spells generally included concussive blasts of force, fire or heat; enslavement of will; teleportation; illusions; paralysis; and manipulation of elements. Generally she tapped the power of artifacts or the influence of Asgard itself, but she was able to manipulate the magic fields inherent in most worlds. Some artifacts were obtained through back channels, supposedly through Loki himself. She managed to meet him once upon a time, when he was still a Prince of Asgard, beloved younger brother to Thor. He had been rather dismissive of her physical charms and even less impressed by her skills. "Karnilla was right to cast you out," he had scoffed. "You lack control and fortitude to pull off the truly difficult spells."

Furious, she worked even harder to try to seduce him, but he never once seemed to get entangled in her schemes. _Thor_ was easier to manipulate, but all he cared for was feasting and fighting, neither of which interested her in the slightest. Trying to get him interested in her was easy, but keeping him with her was a chore she didn't want to endure.

Loki's callous manner had gotten Amora to thinking as she walked along the branches of Yggdrasil. It was dangerous, and she skirted the edge of reality far too often for her teachers' liking. Physically, she had as much strength as the average Asgardian. She was able to do standard Asgardian feats of strength, but generally did not. Her focus was on the esoteric arts, and she didn't like shifting it to anything else. Walking Yggdrasil in the manner she did could be very dangerous, especially without a home realm or an anchor to keep her rooted in a single reality. Loki's casual cruelty was a good anchor for her anger. She could prove to him that she had the mental fortitude and control to wield difficult magicks. He wasn't the only caster on Asgard, and she was still determined to be the best.

Amora stopped walking abruptly and shook out her hair. Her blonde tresses had gotten matted and she was utterly filthy. How much time had passed as she walked? How far afield of reality had she actually come?

Flicking some of the filth off of her tattered skirt, Amora watched as it shifted form during its descent back onto Yggdrasil. Monsters and various horrid forms seemed to take shape, shadows shifting all around her. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

How long had it been since she had last spoken?

She had a sense of _green_ as she looked down at herself, and was soon stumbling along a steep incline she hadn't noticed. Tumbling and rolling, she fetched up on a grassy field next to a massive tree that seemed to touch the sky. Yggdrasil? Amora touched the tree, and she could see the World Tree as well as the tree before her. She could feel the stretch of existence and magic all around her, and laughter bubbled up inside of her. Many of her old teachers couldn't do that, had feared abilities like that.

"I'm too clever," she said, then startled at the sound of her own voice. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. Her hair was still a tangled, snarled mess, her helm anchored in place amongst all the knots. The green dress she wore was caked in mud, grass and things she would rather not name, the skirt of it tattered and torn. Her green stockings were ripped, shredding to nearly nothing in some places, and the heels of her boots had worn themselves down to nothing. How far had she walked? How much time had passed?

But knowledge swirled within her blood, and any price was worth paying in order to obtain it. She laughed again, dancing around the tree, fingers moving in patterns that sent the insects nearby skittering for cover in fright. She was magic, she was Creation, she was part of the World Tree and apart from it, all the old teachers be damned to Helheim and back.

"You are a strange thing," came a voice behind her.

Amora stopped her frenzied dance and fell into a crouch out of fright. Her eyes were as green as her clothing, as green as the grass all around her. Her blonde hair and pale, pale skin didn't let her blend in with the field, however.

The voice's owner was a man of some sort, heavily muscled with skin as gray as stone. He had a wide slash of a mouth and black eyes, a stubby nose that had been broken and reset more times than it really should have, and he towered above her when he stood up from his sprawled position next to a tree beside hers. "You tumbled out of the sky," he said, pointing, "and then there you are, dancing." His beady black eyes narrowed slightly and she thought she saw the broken, blunted ends of teeth beyond his cracked lips. He watched her carefully, as if trying to decide if she was prey, and that could not stand.

Amora started to smile as she stood from her crouch, a wild, crazed thing that could strike fear into lesser creatures. "You could call it dancing, I suppose."

"What monstrosity are you?"

But she wasn't the monstrosity. She was magic. She was able to do _so many things,_ and she was so much more than the teachers had said she would be. It was not lack of fortitude that got her this far. Lack of discipline would not have allowed her to return from Yggdrasil unscathed but for ragged clothing.

 _Are you really unscathed?_ a tiny whispering voice asked. Possibly the remnants of her old conscience. It was a faulty, diseased thing. Best exterminated.

She grinned even wider, sure that she would appear demented and manic, more like a beast than a woman, more like a ghoul than a sorceress. "No monstrosity. I am Asgardian, and I have walked the ways of Yggdrasil for some time. What are you?"

"I am Skrall the Executioner," he told her. His voice was low and gravelly, much like his appearance. Scars covered nearly all of his exposed skin, and he moved as if they were badges of honor rather than horrors to avoid. Without magic, she could not heal damage done to her body quickly, and she was terribly vain. She could admit that to herself. Vanity wasn't a crime, and it had led her down this path so far. So many of her teachers had been drawn in and manipulated by the promise of flesh and desires fulfilled, the end result of youthening spells, enhancements and old fashioned mental control. Her beauty would get her even farther.

Amora smiled at him coquettishly. Yes, he was hooked in by her snare. She could tell by the slight widening of his beady black eyes, the way the corner of his mouth curled with intrigue. Oh yes, she might have fallen into the right place after all.

"I am Amora the Enchantress. You will take care of me now."

Skrall grinned, a frightening thing that likely caused nightmares in his enemies. "My pleasure."

***

Possibly because of the potential Loki entertainment value, Natasha was asked to look into the connection between Hydra, AIM and spell casters. She wanted to roll her eyes at Sitwell, whose expression remained as bland as ever. "Is there something specific I should use as a search parameter? Something other than my own escape from Andorra as a reason to believe magic is involved in their association?"

"There is some rumor picked up by the CIA that seems to indicate the actual Ten Rings group is not as defunct as they wanted us to believe."

Natasha looked at him evenly. "There was the actor hired by Killian as his cover story," she began slowly. "Most of the leaders of that group are on the list of known operatives killed."

"Not all of them," Sitwell told her. He handed her a slim file folder that turned out to have a highly sanitized version of all SHIELD information regarding the Ten Rings. "This might help get your _advisor_ on board."

She suppressed the urge to pull a face at him and smiled in a professional way. Once she was dismissed, she headed to her office. It was still untouched from the last time she had been down there, piles of old file folders still in its seeming haphazard organization. After only a few minutes sitting there, she could feel the tell-tale itch between her shoulder blades that indicated she was being watched. Considering there hadn't been the sound of footsteps or echoes down the hall, it was pretty obvious who was there. "Are you going to actually say something, or were you planning to just stand there?"

Loki stepped to the side of her desk, dressed in a black business suit and navy blue tie. "You knew I was there," he commented, though she could tell he was surprised.

Natasha smirked a little and nodded toward his tie. "No green?"

He returned her smirk. "It wouldn't do to be obvious."

"Of course not."

Taking the topmost folder from her pile, Loki quickly looked through it, then tossed it back onto her desk with a grimace. "Hardly worth paying attention to," he sneered.

"What are you doing here?" Natasha asked Loki, looking back down at her collected files. Of course the sanitized one was boring. That was why she was gathering more information for it.

"Your job can be rather…" He pursed his lips as if looking for the right words to say. "This is not what I would wish to do."

"You're a trickster and manipulator."

"As are you."

Natasha looked up, her expression an impassive mask. "Yes, I can be. I didn't pretend otherwise, did I?" she asked.

Loki tilted his head to look at her. "Initially, you did."

"You assumed I was weak."

"Weren't you?" He moved to the opposite side of her desk, leaning over it with an almost menacing look on his face. "I might have been the monster in the cage, but you were the one discomfited by my remarks."

"Was I really?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Natasha reached for another folder, this one stained and dogeared. The only reason why she was even in this office was to find the truly old files, the ones that hadn't been completely digitized. Usually, those were the ones with the most interesting information that computers simply couldn't pick up. Handwriting changes, the subtle or not-so-subtle depression of the pen into paper... Those could never be replicated properly, and it generally told her a little more about the writer than the surface content of the report. The more agitated the agent was, the more truthful she could assume the report to be.

"You were. And when I held you captive at your safe house… You eliminated it because of me."

Natasha looked up, fingering the old folder. It was thick, but not everything might be currently useful. She would have much rather concentrated in private, but Loki apparently was trying to prove a point to himself. Tilting her head to the side, she contemplated him. "Are you still upset that I'm not discredited here?"

There was a startled look in his eyes before his mask descended, and she guessed that she hit her mark. He was still trying to figure her out, wondering why she wasn't broken and defeated. It might be because he was discovering how deeply he was tying himself to her, how much he relied on their deal. Mortality was rather a bitch that way next to someone that was so nearly immortal. Loki might have been trying to figure out a way to sever some of those ties and not be so reliant on her. The way he was speaking about Hel, Natasha doubted that he would be able to come up with some kind of deal to release her after her death.

"You would have to matter," he all but snarled.

"Ah." Natasha looked down at the file in her hands and flipped it open. "Might as well sit down," she said, indicating one of the chairs across from her desk. She leaned back in her own and looked up. "I still have work to do, and standing like that for a long time will give you a crick in your back. I assume you're still subject to such things, even as an Asgardian."

Loki was clearly taken aback, and his expression darkened. "You do not command me."

"It wasn't a command," she replied without looking up. "It was a suggestion. You can loom all you like if it really makes you happy."

Sullen, he grabbed a chair and sat down. He was a creature of comfort and habit, and they both knew that about him.

"What is this trash?"

"What passes as mortal magic."

He snorted and picked up the sanitized file again. It still bored him, and he moved the chair closer to her side of the desk to look at the thicker file she was perusing. "So what is that?"

"Something SHIELD generally would rather you didn't have," Natasha said, paging through it. "But I'm looking for anything important that might be in the older files. Archival data is often more useful than the higher ups seem to think."

That was just the right hook to intrigue him. Loki took the larger file from her and paged through it, frowning at the tightly written script and skipping straight to the figures, diagrams and pictures. "It is Midgardian in origin, at least."

Natasha didn't say anything as he continued paging through the file. "This could potentially devastate your world, I think," he said, opening up the thick folder to a diagram in the back. The photo was of two gauntlets, ten rings worked into them, and an amulet that was crafted in a similar style. "The script looks very similar to ones I have seen before."

"What do they do?"

"Funnel power, of course. What is magic but willpower made manifest?"

"I thought I would find you down here, Romanoff," came a voice behind them. Natasha turned around with a half smile on her lips, but Loki looked downright hostile.

"May," Natasha replied with her usual emotionless tone. "I'm surprised you're back in the Maze. Didn't like driving the bus?"

"Oh, I like it just fine. Phil asked me to bring you in on this one once Jasper told him what you were assigned to. Our current targets match." The woman standing in the doorway was in a black uniform similar in style to Natasha's, with some personal variation of it. She was of Asian descent, had shoulder length loose black hair and a no nonsense expression on her face. There was a battle ready grace about her, and her brown eyes seemed to take everything in.

Loki looked at her with surprise mingling in with his hostility. "There are two of you," he accused, looking back at Natasha.

Smirking at him, Natasha stood. "Correction. Go far enough in the organization and there are a lot more people like us."

"Disturbing thought," Loki muttered, rising as well.

"It was meant to be."

Natasha picked up both the sanitized file and the thicker archival file she had been looking through. "I think this one would rather tag along."

"Asset?"

"Not exactly."

May actually smiled. "Trust me, the bus is full of those. He'll fit right in."

***

Loki managed not to gape at the "bus" that May brought them to. He had thought it would be one of those silly ground transportation vehicles he had seen all over Midgard, but this was actually a rather large flying machine. There were cars in the hangar bay, and May led them up a spiral stair to the conference room. "The rest are already inside," she told them.

He recognized Phil Coulson immediately, and at least didn't blanch at the sight. He had killed him, the man bleeding out after blasting him with some kind of weapon. Loki could remember the sting of the blast as well as his words. _You'll never defeat them... You lack conviction._ Perhaps it was true, but it still hurt to hear.

Coulson didn't let on that he recognized Loki in the suit, though he must have. He made the introductions automatically. There was May, the pilot and a high ranking agent in her own right, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons were the two scientific minds that helped take apart the things they saw in the field, Grant Ward was a Level Seven agent that worked out in the field and there was Skye, who seemed to be the computer expert. "And of course, this is Agent Romanoff and Loki," Coulson said in his usual bland tones, pointing at them in turn. The scientists and computer expert gaped. "We'll be working together to track down the Ten Rings and Hydra connection."

"But… You tried to blow up New York!" Skye cried, pointing at him.

"An invasion is hardly an explosion," Loki replied haughtily, looking at her with scorn.

Clearing his throat, Coulson stared at Skye until she composed herself. "As I said. Ten Rings." He looked over at Ward, who started poking at the touchscreen table. Views of the known artifacts associated with them appeared on the wall screen, as well as a listing of known members of the faction. Most were confirmed dead, some were missing. One of the missing members of the Ten Rings was believed to have been absorbed into one of Hydra's cells, but this was based on untrustworthy information. "The only one that was definitively able to view the gauntlet or the amulet in question is Doctor Strange, who is currently missing."

"Missing," Natasha commented, looking at Coulson with an eyebrow lifted.

"Some kind of magical energy burst about a year ago. Hasn't been seen since. Given that it's magical in nature, however, his comrades are reluctant to actually presume he's dead until they find a body."

"Generally a commendable course of action with practitioners of any sort," Loki agreed. "What does this mage of yours look like?"

A few taps on the table, and a photo of Dr. Stephen Strange was added to the wall. He was slender and tall, with gray eyes and black hair containing a shock of white at the temples. "Originally born in Philadelphia, he trained in medicine at New York University, completed his residency in New York Hospital until an unfortunate accident and could no longer practice as a neurosurgeon," Coulson said, pointing to the photo. "From what we can tell, that's what led him to study the mystical arts under the Ancient One, no photo or biographical data available. He's set up a community of sorts in Greenwich Village and has occasionally done consulting work for various government agencies, mutants, and other known practitioners."

"He is unfamiliar to me," Loki declared after a moment. "His travels likely did not include the branches of Yggdrasil or the other realms."

"Visiting other realms isn't exactly a common thing to do," Fitz said, bristling slightly. "We know that Dr. Foster has been working on the Einstein-Rosen bridge, but all of the other publications regarding her work are theoretical in nature. It hasn't been done on a consistent basis on our end. The technology simply isn't there."

"Because it's a question of magic," Loki returned, scorn clear in his voice. "To be able to transmute the substance and shape of a thing, transport it nearly instantaneously... These are higher order spells, and no novitiate could cast it."

"Transmutation means to change matter's fundamental structure," Simmons burst in, catching his attention. "And if you're interconverting matter to energy and then back again, it would require a massive amount of energy and is more likely to create an explosion than travel between worlds or across the globe."

"Unless we're talking about quantum mechanics," Fitz said before Loki could interrupt, warming to the topic. "It's part of the fundamental theory behind the bridge, and likely why it is so unstable. You can't predict an object's precise location without disturbing it—"

"Enough with the sciencing," Ward interjected, nearly heaving a sigh. "If it's a question of energy or whatever, doesn't that mean that you can track it?"

All eyes swiveled toward Loki, whose lip curled in distaste. "I've told Natasha many times. Magic is willpower made manifest. There are signatures that can be felt in the _seidr_ ; if you look for them."

"Yes," Simmons said earnestly, "but what does it _look_ like? Is it energy? A signal of some sort?" 

Loki frowned, appearing unsure how to translate any of this into terms that mortals could understand. Natasha took in his serious stance and care in answering the question, and realized that she had possibly not given Sitwell enough credit. He had been paying attention after all; this was the perfect case to occupy Loki and make him feel superior to humans. It could contain him for a time; the Ten Rings and Hydra were both very slippery organizations, and Loki would likely want to see it through to the end. In the meantime, that would leave SHIELD with more agents on the ground to work other cases, and Loki would neatly eliminate major world threats for them. Clever. 

"How do you describe music to one that is tone deaf?" he asked finally. "Those gifted can hear the signature design of a composer. Such with the _seidr,_ and those truly skillful can even tell who had trained the practitioner." 

"And you're such a one," Ward asked, skepticism clear in his voice. 

Loki's grin was a sharp baring of teeth. "One of the few still living." 

"Then I guess we're stuck with you." 

His eyes narrowed, and he started raising a hand toward Ward. Natasha put a hand on his arm to gently divert his attention. "Would you be able to trace Dr. Strange if you had some of his personal effects? If he had lived in the Village, it's not that difficult to get to." 

He gave her a look that contained a fair measure of pity. "If he's as good as he thinks he is, you will never be able to find it." 

"Known allies might be able to help track him down," May said. 

Loki nodded at her slowly. "Assuming they would be willing to help you." 

"Why wouldn't they want to find their friend?" Skye asked, frowning. "He's been missing for a year, and they were freaking out back then, sure he wasn't dead. For all we know, they've been looking for him this whole time." 

"Why would they trust you?" Loki asked her. "Why any of you? _Seidr_ is a secretive art, one jealously hoarded and revealed to precious few. None of you would be worthy of those secrets. You cannot comprehend its majesty." 

"They wouldn't trust _you,"_ Ward remarked. "Strange has worked with SHIELD before." 

Eyes narrowing slightly, Loki gave them all a curt nod. He abruptly opened a portal to one of his hideaways on Yggdrasil and stepped backward through it. "Then find him yourself." 

Natasha waited a beat after the portal closed before openly glaring at Ward. "Next time, use less asshole maneuvering. You'll be less likely to start the next apocalypse that way." 

May was also glaring at Ward, and turned toward Natasha. "I'll take you to the Village. I'm sure you'll find someone who does know Strange that can point you in the right direction." 

As she and May left the conference room, Natasha could hear Skye make a soft choking sound and say incredulously "Holy shit, guys, how amazing was that? Ward got snarked at and I met an Avenger today!" 

She missed Coulson's reply, and turned toward May. "Sure you don't miss the Maze?" 

May gave her a small smile. "Sometimes. But they amuse me." 

Natasha returned the smile. "It's hard to keep agents like us occupied sometimes." 

"With all of those organizations out there, it's getting easier and easier every day." 

Nodding, Natasha gave May a slightly wider smile. "That café we like downtown is still open. Have enough time for a pit stop?" 

"I'm the bus driver," she answered with an answering smile. "Of course there is." 

__

***  
***


	2. Strings Attached

Skrall was more like rock and dirt than a living being, but he enjoyed hunting and killing. He was proud to be helping Amora; once she was able to wash the filth off of her, detangle her hair and replace her clothing, she looked like a goddess. He stood in thrall before her as she wore a diaphanous gown that hid nothing as she walked about his crumbling stone tower. Skrall had no illusions about his appearance or his profession; everyone needed an executioner, but no one wanted to befriend one. Amora was his first friend, of a sort, and she did need his protection as much as he needed someone to protect. She was powerful in arcane arts, but had no sense of physical protection. It gave him an extra thrill of power to realize that he excelled in something that she never could.

He watched her lounge on the furs of the creatures he had killed on this world, a lifetime of riches as far as the Seven Villages was concerned. She stroked the softest of them, luxuriating in the sensation of it, and some part of Skrall wished she would pet him the same way. He knew he was hideous, knew he could not have companionship such as Amora would be used to. Still, he burned with want. "Enchantress," he murmured, approaching slowly.

Her lips curled into a sweet smile as she looked at him, and the tightness in his chest eased somewhat. "Yes?" she asked, voice melodious and sweet.

"I have worked to create some comfort and beauty for you." He knelt at her feet and bowed his head deeply. "Does this please you?"

She leaned forward and touched his forehead with the tips of her fingers, then swept them down his temple to his jaw. He barely moved or breathed. She willingly touched him, and it was a gentle one. He dared hope that there was fondness or even affection in that touch, that her sweet smile in his direction was no illusion. In that moment, he knew that whatever wicked thing she might want, he would deny her nothing. Skrall was not stupid, he knew she had an evil heart inside her chest. The lightness and beauty of her features hid a vast darkness, and her desires would bring about damnation to _someone._

But he would light a world on fire for her, no questions asked.

"I am very pleased, Skrall," she said, sincerity in her tone. "You have done wonderfully." She laughed a little. "When you care for someone, you know how to do it right."

Skrall thrilled at the praise and leaned into her touch. He stilled when she lifted his chin and his eyes were directly in line with her barely concealed breasts. "Enchantress," he said again, not sure what he was supposed to think.

"I am magic, desire and devastation all at once, am I not?"

"You are."

Pulling him closer to her body, her laughter lost its sweet edge. She could not play at being an innocent for very long, but he didn't care. He was touching her through the sheer material, and her throaty laugh instilled even more carnal desires in him. "Then indulge," she purred, parting her legs for him. "Show me your desires, then I'll show you mine."

Her smile was all teeth and danger, threatening to swallow him whole.

Skrall seized her mouth in a kiss, his soul be damned.

***

Natasha sat crosslegged on the floor of her suite, breathing slowly and deeply as she finished her yoga routine. She could hear the swish of air currents moving around her, but didn't open her eyes yet. Lack of footsteps, the shifting air and appearances at inconvenient times could only mean Loki at this point.

When she did open her eyes, he was leaning against her couch dressed in an immaculate black suit with sharply creased lapels. The light blue shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and there was no tie. His hair was neatly combed back but didn't appear quite so slick or oily. He looked at her with a neutral expression, as if waiting for her to comment on his lack of leather and gold armor.

"Zegna?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

He grinned, a sharp flash of teeth. "Bespoke from a shop in London," he replied, his voice low like a caress. "You like?"

It was flattering and disturbing at the same time that he wanted and valued her opinion on his appearance. She let her lips curl into a seductive smile. "Very nice."

"Did you find your mage's friends or home?"

"No." She and May had tea and talked for a few hours, ostensibly because they were waiting for word back from one of Strange's students. Neither had really expected word back, but it would have been nice to have some kind of response.

"It's called the Sanctum Sanctorum. Your superiors think that _I_ am presumptuous, and don't seem to realize it when their allies behave similarly."

"It's called bureaucracy," Natasha replied easily. "It makes less and less sense the higher up in the chain of command you go."

Loki stayed in his lounging pose as Natasha stood and rolled her neck. "We could spar," he said abruptly. "There is no need to find his compatriots."

"Why?"

"Some are dead, some have disappeared." At her steady look, Loki shrugged. "I may have looked into the darker corners of your city."

"That bored?"

His eyes flashed, so she had to assume that yes, he was that bored. "They call it dimensions, but it appears to be other realms on Yggdrasil. Some have been created with magic alone and would not otherwise exist."

"Like the places you go to?"

Nodding, Loki straightened. "It was not the work of those you seek."

"So. Back to the beginning for us, then?"

"Perhaps." Loki paused. "Why do you include me, Natasha?"

No "little spider" at this point. Interesting. She graced him with a slight smile. "Those rings are magical in nature, aren't they? I haven't trained for that."

He watched her carefully, looking for any artifice. At the moment, there was none, so his stance relaxed a fraction. "Well. I suppose that is truth."

"I don't always need to lie, you know."

Loki reached out and touched her arm, much in the same way that she often touched his in order to calm his rages. "What do you need? Your control is so hard won." He grasped her arm, not too tightly, and pulled her in closer. "Do you use this as a way to keep me close? Do you secretly revel in your submission? Kneeling is not a bad position for you," he purred, lips curling into a smile. "Freedom is an illusion. It's a lie foisted upon humanity. Don't you wish to be free of this lie? Is it not easier to let go of that control?"

"Easier isn't always what's best," she replied in neutral tones. His hand slid down to her elbow, and she leaned in close to him. "Is it easy to give control to me, Loki? When we have our play in that apartment, is it easy for you to let go?"

He abruptly released her and stepped back. "No." His voice was harsh, strained. "It is not."

"Why would think that it would be easy for me?"

They stared at each other, masks firmly in place. Neither was not willing to give even an inch, to concede a single point. Pride and dominance were at stake. Natasha knew she could not fold and still be seen as his domme, and she would _never_ break for him. Better have tried and failed since her escape from the Red Room. They had been able to do it with cocktails of drugs, programming and her own ignorance.

Never again.

"Perhaps this deal is an illusion."

"Is it an illusion when you fuck me?" she challenged. "Or when I fuck you? Is that all an illusion between us?" Natasha stayed very still, her gaze never leaving his. "Or is it a way to keep the nightmares from becoming real?" She didn't react to the twitch in his eyes. "I don't question what works, Loki. There's no need to."

A beautiful lie, but a very necessary one.

Loki's lips compressed into a thin, unhappy line. "There is a need to question at all times, Natasha," he said, voice dark and threatening. "I will not let you die. You will not come to deliberate harm at my hands. But I promise no more than that."

"I didn't ask for that promise."

His breath hitched slightly. "No, you did not."

"I don't make any promises like that in return," she pointed out.

"No, you do not," he agreed.

"Do you want one?"

"Would you give it?"

"No," she said without hesitation. "I told you. If you step over the line, I will send you to Hel myself. I will put you down like the rabid monster you fear yourself to be."

Loki's stance relaxed further, and he tilted his chin down in a deferential move. "I welcome it, Natasha. You have no idea."

She understood probably better than he thought she did; she had been in that same frame of mind when Clint had refused to kill her. Natasha hadn't initially welcomed the offer to work with SHIELD, and she liked to say she would change her mind at any time her work there ceased to meet her personal goals. But where else would she go? There was no other way to balance her ledger, and she had the life she wanted.

The only complication that she had was Loki, and whatever this deal meant.

"You wanted to spar," Natasha said. "There is a practice room on this floor. I'll get the sword and you can pick whatever weapon you like."

His smile was almost crazed. "Oh, this will be delightful indeed."

Soon enough, Natasha held the twin swords in hand, dressed in the loose yoga pants and plain white T shirt she had been wearing earlier. She didn't even bother to put on socks or shoes. Loki took off the suit jacket and rolled up his cuffs, then carefully took off the dress shoes and socks so that he was barefoot as well. He reached into shimmering air beside him and retrieved a glaive, the blade a curved slice of silver about a foot in diameter. It also had runes along its length, both the inner and outer curves sharpened to razor edges.

"What are the terms?" Loki asked. "First blood?"

"First collapse. No magic."

Loki laughed, sounding like the boy he must have been once. "Truly? Oh, this will be _magnificent,_ Natasha. I accept the terms."

They circled each other on the flooring, which was lightly padded in case there were falls or throws during practice. She was aware of the delight in his eyes, and she knew this wouldn't be easy sparring. Neither would pull punches, and would lose the respect of the other if they did. It was going all in, and she was sure JARVIS would say something to announce this if Tony didn't have some kind of magic proximity alarm set yet. They would have an audience sooner or later, and she _definitely_ did not want to lose to Loki again.

Loki struck first, swinging the glaive out. He had a reach weapon, which would make this a little more difficult, but Natasha had been up against worse odds. She swung her left sword up, catching the outer edge of the glaive blade and pushed it to the side with her swing. At the same time, she darted forward with the right sword, swinging it up and out in a graceful arc. Loki had to leap back to avoid having his right arm cut in half, and there was something like pride in the way he looked at her use of his swords. "You and your Hawk excel with older weapons."

"I told you," she said with a sensual smile. "I am a blade."

This time she started the attack, moving with her right hand in the dominant position, the left sword raised behind her. It was almost a fencing stance, and Loki grinned as he thrust the glaive forward. Natasha rose to her tip toes in a pirouette, swinging her right sword up to deflect the glaive and bringing the left sword behind her. She heard Loki hiss as its edge met his bicep, scoring deeply into the muscle. "First blood."

He continued the lunge with his glaive and turned in a circle around her. "Very well. Do we play for points?"

She could see Clint and Steve coming into the training room, concern and confusion etched into their features. "Let them decide the winner?" she asked, nodding in their direction.

Turning to see who she referenced, Loki let the point of his glaive drop and shift toward the side, away from his torso. Taking advantage of the split second's vulnerability, Natasha darted in and brought the swords toward him. He realized she was moving too late, but the reach on the glaive meant that his counter swing blocked the edges of the swords and knocked them down toward the ground. To get his own blade up, he would have to swing it back up; before he could make the move, Natasha shifted her weight to her left leg and kicked viciously at his knee with her right. Loki cried out and staggered, but didn't drop. "You _cheated!"_

"We didn't call pause to the sparring," she countered, kicking at his hip. Her swords were still pinned, and his glaive was actually caught in the padding. Pulling viciously at the swords, she could hear the scrape of metal on metal. There were sparks but the padding didn't catch fire as she brought the twin swords up and around the glaive.

Natasha spun away from him as he yanked upward with the glaive, freeing it from the padded flooring. She leaned backward as she spun, bending herself nearly in half. The glaive's blade whistled over her torso by inches, and she swung her arm out in a wide arc. It forced Loki to skip backward and try to swing the glaive again.

"You truly were a dancer," he commented, lips curling into a smile. "Graceful."

"Oh, we already know you like my style," she purred, as if this was merely foreplay. She didn't react to Clint's choked response or the sight of Steve looking uncomfortable out of the corner of her eye. There was more than one way to distract an opponent and win a match.

She stood and fell into something like a fencing position again, right foot forward and left knee bent. She deepened the pose, however, and the swords were raised high above her head; the move only accentuated how flexible she was, and she saw Loki's eyes travel the length of her legs, lips parted in desire. "Don't you?" she purred.

"Oh, yes. Far more interesting than training with the Warriors Three had been."

Loki began, swinging the glaive down in what would have been a powerful attack. Natasha sprang from her pose, meeting the glaive's blade with the right sword as she shifted and spun around, left arm going wide in an arc. He reversed his swing partway through his attack, meeting her left sword. This time _he_ struck with his foot, bringing it into contact with her left calf muscle. She dropped to one knee, but then continued the movement into a roll, blades sticking out to cut him as she went past him. Moving quickly, Loki planted the staff end of the glaive against the floor and pushed off of it, swinging himself up and over the deadly blades of the twin swords. Natasha came out of her tucked roll and planted her fists on the ground as she kicked up with her bare feet. Her toes came into contact with Loki's stomach, knocking him off balance and making him let go of the glaive.

He coughed and tried to roll back toward the glaive. Natasha got up and rolled her wrists in a circle to loosen them; it had the effect of rolling the swords in a wide circle, as if she meant to menace him with them. "This would be first collapse," she said sweetly.

Shaking his head, Loki grasped the staff of the glaive and looked toward Clint and Steve. "I do not concede," he said, lips curling into a smile. "I like this. Continue."

Natasha shrugged. "You had a choice," she purred.

He laughed in response, nodding as he held the glaive in one hand loosely. "Definitely." His eyes were smoldering, as if he was imagining bedding her right there. "Continue."

This time the attack was less of a tease, more of a flurry of blade against curved blade and staff, neither giving quarter as they struck and parried. Natasha was shorter and faster on her feet, not shy about contorting her body to get inside the reach of the glaive. She even head butted his chest, making him stumble back a step. She hadn't felt the cuts on her arms, but he had a dozen more. Tony wandered into the room with a milkshake, eyebrows rising toward his hairline. "Am I the only one seeing this?" he called out, clearly not expecting an answer. "We have a godling attacking our friend and we're just watching?"

"Sparring," Natasha corrected, kicking Loki in the back and sending him tumbling across the padded floor. 

"She can handle this," Clint said with a lazy tone, shrugging.

"Not to mention," Steve added with a grin, "she's winning."

Natasha pitched forward in a run, swords in hand, swinging them in an arc as she approached. As she had expected, Loki swung the glaive to deflect the sharp blades. The outer curve caught her arm again, but she had already known it was a risk. Natasha let the momentum of the swords swing her around, and she bent her knee into the turn. She hit Loki in the ear, stunning him, and easily swung her swords around, crossing them into a scissorlike grip. Though she was leaning on the floor heavily, the blades were close to his throat.

"See? It's clear who's winning here," Clint said to Tony.

"Pretty impressive fight, actually," Steve said, nodding. "JARVIS recorded it, I think. We can play it back later, if you want to try to do similar moves."

Tony snorted as Loki sighed and finally conceded. "Swinging around poles and sticks? Not my thing. I fly around them in the armor."

Natasha withdrew the swords and hooked them back together before offering her hand to help Loki to his feet. They had the same wide grins on their faces, enjoying the ability to fight without holding anything back. Loki had no one else, but Natasha at least had Clint and Steve to practice with on a regular basis. She tended to pull back with junior agents if she trained them and it had been years since she last sparred with May in SHIELD training grounds. "Good practice," she said, again offering him the swords. Loki shook his head. "I'll need to get a proper stand for these, then."

"I'll make you one," Loki promised. He gave her a deep bow, using his glaive for balance. "Until the next time, dear Natasha."

Waiting a beat after Loki disappeared, Tony narrowed his eyes at Natasha. "What the hell was that? Was that flirting? Were you flirting with the enemy? Because I'm pretty damn sure I'm the only one allowed to make stupid ass decisions around here."

"Technically not anymore," Steve supplied cheerfully. "Remember? Pepper forbids it."

Tony threw up his hands, spilling the remnants of his milkshake. "You are absolutely no fun, Captain Frigid. You don't challenge the Lord of Lies, you take Pepper's side in everything, and you don't call me in when there's good stuff to watch. Some friend you are."

Clint openly snickered as he moved to the built in shelves to grab a towel for Natasha. "You missed that, I can tell. Looked like good practice."

"That occupied me as much as it did him. Still no idea where next to go with the case I'm working on, but I'll get there eventually."

She left the others to bicker amiably and possibly practice on their own. She needed a shower and change, and to inspect any cuts left over. As much as Loki didn't want to admit it, Natasha had the feeling that the ties between them had only been tied that much tighter.

***

Amora lay curled in a deep pile of furs, a satisfied smirk on her face. Skrall was off looking for the highly valuable Essine Ruby, which could be used as a dream stone or magical focus. It was also as big as her fist and mounted on an elaborate gold backing and chain, which would have been absolutely gorgeous to own. He also planned to find one of the tailors that catered to royalty, which was downright endearing. Not that she couldn't simply create her own clothing, but there was something about being pampered that appealed. Amora wasn't planning to be taken for granted as she had in the past.

Memories of Asgard were vague in some areas and startlingly clear in others. She remembered the humiliation of being turned away as a student, of the crown prince and his brother sneering at her and thinking her useless. She remembered his warrior friends jeering at her. She remembered having to use her wiles and seduce her way into teachers' beds in order to learn, of thinking that she would barely survive Yggdrasil. But she did it, she did it _on her own,_ and more than that, she had survived. She had grown stronger, and her skill in the arcane arts was even more devastating than before.

Skrall lavished attention and favors upon her, which was definitely endearing. He had no skill whatsoever in bringing her physical pleasure, but his feeble attempts certainly made him feel ecstatic. Amora knew that no one else on his world would speak to him unless it was necessary, let alone allow him into their bed. She truly was a goddess to him, and that feeling alone made her purr. Pleasuring herself as he watched only seemed to whet his appetite for her, and she was almost giddy with this power.

She must have slept. The next thing she knew was Skrall caressing her, murmuring endearments in his native tongue. She could tell by the tone of his voice, and flashed him a warm smile she didn't necessarily feel. Perhaps she should bring him walking out on Yggdrasil with her. He would fall to his knees in gratitude and awe, knowing she was truly a goddess.

"I have the ruby," he said, laying it in front of her once he realized she was awake. Amora stretched and sat up, taking in the deep blood red of the ruby that was only matched in hue by the streaks of dried blood on his double bladed axe. Skrall followed her line of sight and shrugged negligently. "They would not allow it on pain of death. So they died."

Amora smiled, a dangerous and slow grin that would make innocents cry. "You did well, Skrall. I am so pleased with you."

Practically preening with joy at her words, Skrall reverently lifted the chain and placed the ruby around her neck. "For you, Enchantress," he said in his gravelly voice.

Picking up the jewel, she looked deep into its facets as he stroked her hair. "This must truly be one of the dream stones. It looks almost like a world in there..."

There was the sound of rushing air swirling around them, and an incredible pressure as if Amora was being squeezed by invisible hands. The breath was pushed out of her, and she grasped hold of Skrall. He was like walking granite, he could keep her grounded.

But instead, he cried out in pain as well, and tried to maneuver himself in front of her. It was the stone, she knew, but what was it doing?

After a minute, the wind seemed to die down, and Amora could open her eyes. Everything was red around her, the light dim and faded. The world she had glimpsed inside the stone was all around her, and she suddenly knew why there were warnings about this ruby. It was a focus of power, certainly, but it housed a realm and could be used to create more. That kind of power was guarded carefully, its secrets jealously kept. Few would be willing to share such things.

And now it was hers. She just had to get out of it.

Amora let Skrall pick her up from where she had fallen on the ground. Looking around, there was nothing around them but red grass. She was in the diaphanous gown and he didn't have any other weapons than his fists. There was no hiding place, no defensible position to retreat to. In the distance there appeared to be a tower not unlike Skrall's, but no other structures existed on the red field.

Still, she held no fear. This was _her_ world now. It was _hers_ to command. Denizens here would rue the day they tried to deprive her of her greatness, and then she could turn her attentions toward those other fools that had wronged her. She would start with Asgard, of course. The royal family was comprised of fools, one and all, and with her glorious return they would see it. Frigga would be chastised for not recognizing her skill, and Odin would bow before her wisdom. Thor would wish he had taken her as a bride and Loki would wish he had taken her seriously. They would fall to their knees before her, groveling with abject fear and remorse, and Amora would have no pity for them. She would crush them beneath her heels and take the throne for herself.

There was no way to tell how long they wandered along the plain. Without a sun to rise and set, it was impossible to mark the time that passed, and neither felt tired at all. It was as if they were frozen in time, stuck in the state they had been when drawn into the ruby. Skrall seemed to miss his axe, and at first didn't want her to create one out of magic. When he finally acquiesced, it was a double bladed axe, razor sharp and perfectly balanced on a long handle. "It's like a massive axe version of a scythe," she told him sweetly. "You should have a weapon that suits you, and is just as finely handled as you."

Skrall preened a bit, and stepped away from her to swing the axe experimentally. He clearly liked it better than the axe that was left behind, and it had taken barely any thought or energy to make. His was a simple soul, which made it easy for Amora to please him.

Up ahead, without realizing how they had gotten there, Amora and Skrall found themselves in a stone manse, windows without glass and doorways without holes. As they walked in, the front room was empty and opened into a large courtyard. It seemed completely empty, but Amora could feel a presence around them. "We are not alone," she told Skrall. He held his axe tightly, and stayed light on his feet in anticipation of danger.

"You are not," boomed a voice behind them.

Amora did a slow spin, a swagger in her hips and a smirk on her face. "Oh?" she asked, her voice like a purr. Skrall had turned quickly, axe in hand and a snarl on his lips, baring his teeth in a menacing manner. He didn't want anyone threatening his Enchantress, and until he knew what was going on, he assumed that this was a threat. Amora found that rather endearing.

"Who are you?" Skrall demanded.

The creature was larger than even Skrall, perhaps two to three times his size. Its skin was deep black, the color of a starless sky. The limbs were thick, as wide around as the tree Amora had first seen on Skrall's world; though there was no impression of muscle the way there was on Skrall's form, Amora assumed that he was incredibly strong. The face had a slash of mouth that opened into an abyss even darker than its skin, and its two eyes were more like gaping holes that were lit from within with the light of distant stars. It had a vaguely humanoid shape, but Amora had the sense that it could take whatever form it damn well pleased.

"I am the Dweller-In-Darkness," he boomed, dim ambient light around them dimming further still. The average mortal might quake in fear; the unknown was always a frightening place for them, and their insipid brains often pushed them into imagining monsters and demons and nightmares in the darkness. They were gibbering idiots, cesspools of fear and anger, and such a reaction was so beneath Amora as to be laughable.

"I am Amora the Enchantress," she declared, voice honey sweet yet strong. She placed a hand on Skrall's shoulder, gaze confident. "This is Skrall the Executioner."

"You will serve me," the Dweller-in-Darkness declared.

She laughed merrily at that declaration. "Oh, I think not, nightmare."

"That is my nephew. This is my realm, and you are under my control."

Amora rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "You rule over an empty realm inside a ruby. Hardly impressive." She let her fingers trail down Skrall's muscled back. "You have nothing, fiend, and you cannot compel me."

The Dweller-in-Darkness raised his hands and the shadows seemed to twist and coalesce into misshapen demons. Some had wings, some were without eyes, some crawled without legs; all had gaping mouths with razor sharp teeth shaped like daggers, and all roared with the intention of feasting on their flesh.

"Is this all you have?" she asked, bored.

"Little Enchantress, you are the nothing here. Other creatures of magic and mysticism have tried and failed to challenge me. Ygrid the Fantastic burned, cursing her foolish pride. Jazmine the Gifted begged for mercy as I devoured her soul. Tental the Beautiful broke pathetically easily, losing her mind. They all tasted _delicious."_

Amora hadn't heard of these sorceresses, but Skrall obviously had; she could feel the tension as his muscles bunched and he coiled to spring. "Idiots, one and all," she declared loftily. "Poor shadows in the craft. I was trained by Karmila of Asgard, Heinrich of Golgotha, Sibyl, Melampus of Pylos, Väinämöinen, Ilmarinen, Erilaz, Dweomerlak, Inswick the dhvara, and I have learned the ways of the völva." Amora curled her lip at the Dweller-in-Darkness. "Your victories are nothing, for those were poor excuses of practitioners. I know the true _seiðr, spá_ and _galdr,_ and _you cannot defeat me."_

The demons and fiends surged forward, claws and teeth poised to inflict maximum damage on the two of them. "You will learn fear, little witch," Dweller-in-Darkness boomed. "And I will feast well tonight."

"I have looked into madness," she boasted, her smile an edged thing. "It comforts me."

Skrall wielded the axe as if it weighed nothing at all. It sliced through claw and limb, black ichor spilling from the wounds. The stone ground sizzled where the ichor hit it, smoke arising as the stone dissolved. Each wounded demon howled and cursed in their infernal tongues, then tried to attack with remaining tooth and claw, ferocity in each strike. They would have been deadly if they connected, but Skrall moved _quickly,_ faster than had even been possible for him before. Amora gathered her hands together, feeling the magic of the realm. It was tied to the Dweller-in-Darkness, she knew that much.

But she could also feel that he was a prisoner to it. Someone had trapped him in this realm some time ago, perhaps that nephew Nightmare of his. It had to be someone close to the Dweller-in-Darkness, someone so intrinsically familiar with his style and rhythm of magic.

Amora laughed as another wave of shadow demons fell upon Skrall, who hacked and slashed at them as if it was a dance. She sent an outward concussive blast of force to knock back an incoming wave of skeletal figures waiting to attack them. Laughing, she sent out fireballs and heat waves, melting the bones from the skeletons that refused to lay down. This was thrilling and wonderful, stirring her blood and making her want more of it.

This was power. This was _hers._

The Dweller-in-Darkness sent more demons and skeletal figures, and finally launched himself into the fray when the lesser beings got nowhere. Skrall had burns on his arms from flying ichor and cuts from claws and knives, but he would not fall. He had his enchanted axe and desire to please Amora. He was already in love with her, and she knew that he would never rest if any threat to her life existed.

Beginning to weave a trap within her pattern of fireballs, Amora continued to blast away at the onslaught of enemies. She didn't think that the Dweller-in-Darkness realized what she was doing, because he was following the only safe path that she set out for him. That brought him further and further into her pentagram of fire, until he was in the very center of it. Only then did she complete the ring in front of her, which increased the temperature exponentially. Shadow seemed to melt from his face and torso as he howled in pain. Oh, she would have to remember this. The ichor was acid and the fires were so beastly hot, yet she and Skrall were unaffected. It was beautiful to see his pain, glorious to hear the proud demon king beg and whimper for mercy she had no intention of giving.

"You learn fear well," Amora purred, a hand sliding down Skrall's arm. He stood at attention, axe at the ready, no mercy to be given there either.

"You starve me..." the Dweller-in-Darkness howled.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Aside from the crisped air, she could smell brimstone, ichor, and that intangible almost-scent that she associated with magic. She could feel Skrall moving from her side toward the Dweller-in-Darkness, his howls of pain, and the sharp stink of the acidic blood. Amora tuned that out and dove into feel of magic. _Yes._ There it was, and she reached out with her inner sense to grasp it with metaphorical hands. A little winding, then an experimental tug. That was the Dweller-in-Darkness, certainly. And his destruction would be her exit from this realm. Perfect.

Amora _yanked,_ and the Dweller-in-Darkness' pitiful screams abruptly cut off. She wound his magic around her and within herself, absorbing his skills and energies. Skrall flinched at the backlash of energies washing over him, gripping his axe tight enough to whiten his stony knuckles around its staff.

When she opened her eyes, they were no longer in the red realm of death and darkness. Instead, they were in a grassy plan, standing in the midst of ruins. It looked like there had once been a tower there, but the stones had crumbled and fallen, spindly wall joists and ceiling beams left behind like an empty ribcage pointing up toward the sky. There was the evidence of fires and devastation everywhere she could see. Frowning, she turned to Skrall. "What—?"

The expression on his face was one of abject misery. She followed his line of sight throughout the desolation, and recognized the mantel and fireplace still barely standing.

"Skrall?" she asked in a small, humbled voice. "Was this our home?"

Our home. She could give him that much. He had truly sacrificed _everything_ for her sake, and she had been comfortable here.

Extending her new senses, Amora fell to her knees with a cry. Skrall thought she was grieving for the life they had together, however brief. The newfound power surging through her was utterly overwhelming, and she could feel _everything._ Even the tree she had once danced around was gone, time erasing its existence.

"Thousands of years," she choked. "We were gone for thousands of years." She looked up at him, struggling to catch her breath. "Your things, the ruby, our home... All of it, gone. This is not what I ever intended..."

He gracefully fell to his knees beside her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She was naked, the diaphanous gown having burnt to cinders. His own ragged excuses of clothing were gone as well, burned away. "We will find a new home. I will get the ruby back for you. That demon tricked us, but never again."

She cupped his cheek with one hand, and crafted herself a dress and stockings in vivid green, the same color as that long ago grass and leaves on the tree. She had her green helm again, the heeled boots and the long fingerless gloves. Skrall was in leather armor with gold highlights, his magical axe at his side. "We will find that ruby, and we will destroy all those who had a hand in reducing this tower to rubble. No one interferes with us, and no one will ever dare take anything away from us ever again."

Skrall leaned into her touch, grinning with his broken teeth. She found it comforting, and allowed him to help her to her feet. "Then let us begin."

***  
***


	3. Strange Interlude

Natasha accepted the invitation to go out for drinks in Greenwich Village with May, Skye and Simmons. Simmons was in a button down blouse and cravat tied into a bow tie at her throat, looking all prim and proper. Skye wore a tight red blouse and jeans, her electronic limiting bracelet more evident than earlier. May was in all black, hair loose around her face. "I don't see you enough," she had said with a shrug when Natasha questioned the outing. Natasha was in tight jeans, a short leather jacket over a purple top. "And they wanted off the bus for a ladies' night out," she had added.

"And you're humoring them why?"

"Because I don't see you enough," May repeated. "I might have Ward's credit card, so he's buying," she continued, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"All right, I'm in."

The bar was a hole in the wall with cheap beer, fantastic snacks and better margaritas. It also allowed patrons to bring in their own alcohol if they were willing to pay a fee up front for it, so Natasha swiped two of Tony's biggest bottles of vodka for shots. Simmon's eyes got very round, and Skye looked delighted at the thought. "No body shots," May intoned.

"Don't tell me you're still upset about that time we were in Alphabet City a few years ago..."

"Ooh, story time!" Skye cried, hopping into a chair beside Natasha. She readily downed the shots as they came, laughing too loud and too long at some of the stories Natasha and May told them in deadpan voices. Simmons was shocked, sometimes looking uncomfortable with the thought of the dangerous things that could happen in the field. She had to tap out of the drinking first, leaving more of it for Natasha and May.

"All right... What is it, really?" Natasha finally asked.

"New York might be down a few more magicians than were expected, given that Strange was out of commission for the past year. Something about an amulet, which may or may not be the one that the Ten Rings had been associated with a number of years ago."

"You were looking into it _why?"_ Natasha asked, irritated.

"Do you really trust Loki's judgment on this?" May returned.

"On that? Yes. Past that? Not on your life."

"Sarkissian isn't the only one involved in magic, Romanoff," May hissed. "Something bad is coming down the pike, and whatever it is, I don't want you involved."

"It's a little too late for that. There's always something happening, and already moves made against me." Natasha's expression darkened for a moment, and she checked that Simmons was out cold and Skye nearly so. "I have things under control."

"Do you really?" May did another shot of vodka and poured Natasha a glass. "I don't trust Loki."

"I have an arrangement. It's under control."

With a sigh, May didn't bother with the shot glass and went straight for the bottle before Natasha took it from her to do the same. "There's not a lot of us left, Romanoff. We have to make sure the old guard is safe."

"I'm safe." She pulled out her cell phone and pasted a smile on her face as she tapped out a message promising to bring Loki to new heights of ecstasy. She showed it to May, who choked on her margarita. "See?"

"I don't believe you," May hissed, frowning at the phone.

"All right, Loki doesn't even have a cell phone. Come on, that was _hilarious."_

May gave her a somewhat disgusted look, then her lips quirked into a smile. "All right. Maybe a little bit. _Maybe."_

Natasha laughed outright and finished the vodka. It felt good to be like this, not being on guard all the time. She so rarely got this opportunity.

Later, she didn't even remember what she and May were talking about. She remembered the look on May's face; May so rarely looked gobsmacked, and Natasha turned around in her seat. Loki was sauntering in, clad in his boots, leather pants, braided leather vest over a dark green shirt and his long overcoat. "Oh shit," May said, blinking.

"I received your message," Loki told Natasha, eyes smoldering.

"You don't even have a phone," she blurted, for a moment not able to think of anything. Shit. She probably shouldn't have had the equivalent of an entire bottle of vodka all by herself.

"It was like a prayer," he purred, lips curling into a wide grin. "And I am your god."

"Listen, I—"

With a wave of his hand, Loki sent May, Skye and Simmons back to the bus. Natasha was sure they would arrive in a tangled heap in the cargo bay, but she couldn't think about that now. He slid his hand down her side and pulled her flush against him before transporting them _between_ to the apartment in Astoria.

Loki devoured her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair and the other sliding down her back to cup her ass and lift her up. "What untold ecstasies will you give me?" he purred in her ear when he moved to mouth her neck. "I have been quite agreeable as of late. I even pursued the paltry excuses for magic on this realm and disembodied the demon Nightmare for a time."

Natasha reached up and pulled on his hair sharply, exposing his neck. She nibbled at it, feeling him shudder. Telling him it was a joke wouldn't go over well, and she wasn't so far gone with alcohol that she would have said such a thing out loud to him. "Shall I fuck you?" she asked, voice sultry. "Lick you open and feel you from the inside out as I suck you off? Or would you rather I tie you down so you're at my mercy?" He shuddered again, breath catching as his fingers twitched against her ass. "You like it, don't you? You want me all over you, my mouth on you, licking and sucking at you—"

Lifting her abruptly, Loki fastened his mouth over hers. "Just you," he growled. "No tools, no bonds, just you."

She didn't think about the implications of this. She could assess that later, and castigate herself for her poor choice in joke. But for the moment, she pushed at his overcoat until he let her down and took it off. "On the bed," she purred, tossing her own jacket and boots aside. He sat down at the edge of the bed, legs splayed wide, leather caressing his skin. Natasha pulled off her shirt and knelt between his legs, looking up through her lashes as she pulled off his boots and stockings. Her fingers traced loops and whorls on his instep. Arching her back a little deepened her cleavage, and Loki licked his lips in anticipation. "You are going to love tonight."

"Perhaps you should be intoxicated more often."

"Too dangerous in my line of work," she said, rising to her feet. Leaning forward, Natasha let him bury his face in her chest as she undid the buttons on his vest and shirt. "But tonight we can play. Tonight is safe."

"Yes," he breathed, undoing her jeans and pushing them down her hips along with her underwear. He licked the skin of her chest, breath hot and insistent. Loki helped her step out of her pants, so that she was in her bra and socks only. "I will keep you safe, Natasha."

Slowly stripping him down to bare skin, Natasha closed her hand around his cock and kissed his chest. She nipped and licked at it, then pushed him down to a lying position so she could crawl above him. After a moment she released his cock so she could undo her bra and toss it aside. That let her drag her nipples across his skin, making him suck in a breath. He even made a soft whine when she began to kiss her way down his stomach to lick at the length of him. His hips jerked slightly when she took him into her mouth as far as she could go, one hand cradling his balls and massaging them slightly. Even after he cried out for her to stop, he wanted to be inside of her, she continued and scratched lightly at the trail down to his hole. Loki cried out, hips jerking as he spilled into her mouth.

Natasha pushed his legs farther apart and ran her nails along the backs of his thighs. He made a soft sound of pleasure, sighing when she let go of his softening cock. She would have thought that he would say something when she sucked on his balls and then traced his hole with her tongue. Instead, he made little choking noises, whimpering and clutching at the sheets beneath him. Interesting how he held himself so tightly, as if she had bound him or put him in the confines of a scene. This was outside their arrangement, but he was still playing by those rules. She could break him if she really wanted to, she realized suddenly. That was a sobering thought. More than a knife between his ribs or sunk into an eye socket, she held power over him now. He needed her more than he was willing to admit aloud, more than he would ever want to acknowledge. He wanted her, but he also _needed_ her. Somehow, she had become as vital to him as breathing or manipulating others.

Loki shifted and cried out as she rimmed him, sliding her tongue around his puckered skin and then inside. He groaned and twisted beneath her mouth when she moved to lick at his balls again, sliding a finger inside. His breath came in little pants, and she had to wonder why he wasn't saying anything. Was he afraid she would stop?

Natasha licked and nibbled at his thighs, then pushed his legs out of her way so she could reach the sensitive skin behind his knees. She could hear cloth tear from where he was pulling at the sheets, and crooked her finger inside him. He choked, hips bucking up toward her hand, and Natasha shifted her position on the bed so that her breasts could brush against his abdomen. She nipped at his chest and then sucked on one of his flat nipples, making him cry out and writhe again, his head thrown back.

"I want to taste you," Loki choked finally, hips bucking as she rhythmically stroked at his prostate. "Natasha, I want that now."

She shifted around as best as she could, making sure she was keeping her finger inside him as she repositioned herself to straddle his head. He grasped her hips and delved his tongue deeply inside of her, audibly enjoying himself. Natasha dipped her head down to nip at the length of his cock, finally hardening again. "What do you want me to do to you, Loki?" she said huskily, licking at his flesh. "How do you want it?"

After a lick at her clit, Loki sucked in a ragged breath. "You will lie back for me," he said, voice a little hoarse. "I want to see you."

"Put me where you want me," she told him, voice still husky with desire. It was all he needed to hear before he grasped her hips and turned her onto her back. Loki parted her legs and thrust deeply inside her, pushing at her bent knees so he slid deeply inside of her. Riding high but not yet ready to come, she watched Loki hold her in place as he set a rapid pace. She gasped and moaned as she was meant to, looking him in the eye. She could see he was losing himself in the sensation of her body; nothing special tonight, really, but he seemed to be coming undone quickly and completely.

He collapsed on top of her afterward, holding her too tightly. Natasha wondered what he was thinking, why she should matter so much. It couldn't be his ledger; that was too new and didn't automatically mean that he needed her. While he didn't seem to want to discredit her with SHIELD any longer, that didn't mean he wanted nothing from her. Loki was selfish and cruel, unstable and only recently becoming easier to predict. Still, Natasha didn't ever want to take it for granted that she knew his motives. She couldn't afford to underestimate him again, especially after all the assurances she had given everyone else.

Loki laid on top of her afterward, clutching her tightly as if she was a lifeline. He sucked at her neck, and Natasha figured that she would have a hickey in the morning, accelerated healing aside. Something happened, perhaps. It wasn't just the text she never actually sent.

She fell asleep at some point, and Natasha cursed herself soundly for that when she woke up. It was a terrible idea to put herself at his mercy that way. She was too vulnerable asleep, even if she could fight back before fully awake. He had his magic, and he could do anything he wanted to as she slept.

Apparently, he only dressed and watched her sleep. She sat up and blinked owlishly at him, not sure what the hell his play was. "Did that meet your approval?" she asked.

He smiled at her, self-assured and slick. Her insides turned to ice, and Natasha wondered how long she had been sleeping and what he had been up to. "Oh, yes," he purred. He tugged on a lock of her hair playfully, then got off the bed. "Send me your prayers more often, Natasha. I do enjoy them."

Nonplused, she could only watch as he disappeared. Taking a deep breath, Natasha stretched and then got dressed. She had some thinking to do about this as well as her job. The Ten Rings and Hydra weren't going to reveal themselves so easily.

***

It had been flattering and disconcerting to know that Natasha thought of him outside of the context of their deal. Loki wanted her to contemplate him, to be nervous and concerned about what he might do. He was a _god,_ after all, easily more powerful than her enhancements could ever fight against. That she tried thrilled him; he had so few pastimes anymore, and he was altogether too good at hiding amongst the branches of Yggdrasil by now. The bond between them, whatever fractured thing it was, allowed him to feel when she was near or when she might want him near. Thinking of him in fond or sexual terms seemed to count. It was frightening how easily he fell under her sway, her clever little hands working his body in ways he still wished did not pleasure him so.

And then she fell asleep beneath him. Should he be flattered that she trusted him? Should he think that he had tired her out so completely? Or should he be angered that she discounted the viability of his threats?

The thought of winding spells through her body again came to mind immediately. He wouldn't disrupt Hel's magic; she would notice if she wasn't healing, and damn it all, but he didn't want her dead. The woman was a maddening creature, and he cursed the day he thought her fragile and weak. She used her weakness against him time and again, though he had been able to undermine her for a time. Natasha had fallen to his feet, had been lowered to sentimentality, had been beaten. She was not broken in the slightest, but he had beaten her at her own game. At least he had that.

Loki could already find her, no matter her location. There was no need to lace that sort of spell into her skin, though it would be easy to do. He could make her beholden to him in some way, could make her care for him. The thought sent him into paroxysms of guilt, and he wanted to tear out her throat for that. He should not feel guilty. It was her damned ledger, the oils she had worked into his blood, tainting him. He had base emotions, delicate and fragile things, the sort that had always been the stuff of taunts.

He left the bed, agitation rising beneath his skin. He could curse her, use her. _Something._ Natasha was small, her body fragile compared to his. It would be easy to break her body apart, to wind the _seidr_ through her and reshape her as his tool. How wonderful would that be? No need for subtlety to draw her away from her companions. Her heart would belong to him, her soul would bow before him. Loki would never have to fear reprisal, would always have her as a champion at his side. He was a king, and every king needed a queen to support his rule.

But it would not be real. And her thrice-damned ledger would not allow such a thing to continue for very long. It would truly make him a monster, and he knew for certain he was a monster already. Every glance in the mirror, every well-crafted spell, every portal he opened; they were all reminders of his weakness, his shame, his incompetence.

Rage seethed, boiling in his blood. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to own her. He wanted to help her.

Yanking on his clothing, he paced. Her breathing was even, peaceful. No nightmares haunted her dreams, no scars marred her skin. His marks upon her body were gone, and he doubted he left any marks upon her soul. There was nothing tying her to him, nothing but their deal. He craved her touch like a drug, and she didn't seem to know that. It gave him some protection, but it was surely only a matter of time before she was able to reason it out. They were too much alike in some ways, too different in others. Could he leave spells woven into her body without her knowing? He rather doubted it. Hel and Frigga would certainly disapprove, and he was strangely reluctant to start yet another war with a practitioner of the arts.

He had been young and stupid when taunting other arcane students. There had been several that truly irked him, Amora and Narissa among the worst offenders. Loki had been able to denigrate Amora's skill and prove her to be a liar and cheat. He knew similar sorts of magic, but belittled her at every turn. It had been amusing, and seeing her cry had lifted his spirits and gotten his soul to singing. Thor and the Warriors Three might have thought his gifts unmanned him, but he was still more powerful than any woman.

But looking at Natasha's fragile body now, Loki was willing to admit that perhaps there were hidden strengths in women. She certainly didn't respond in ways he could predict. She was just as overconfident and brash as he could be, yet resilient enough to never break. Two sides of a dark coin, and his was the blemished side. He broke. He _shattered,_ sometimes willingly so, and begged for more.

Loki gently laid down on the bed beside Natasha and covered her with one of the quilts when he saw the gooseflesh rise on her skin. She slept so rarely in his company. He didn't often see her quiet and still, the look of innocence on her face. She had been so young when started on the mercenary's path, when her life had been twisted and molded into shapes not of her choosing. He wondered idly how much of that malleability was left in her, and if that was the secret of her resiliency. If so, he could never reproduce it. Loki could not bear being anyone or anything else, and he had to be the center of his own attention.

Toying with a lock of her hair, he contemplated what to do next. She wanted to continue with this job of hers, with this misguided attempt to rescue innocents. He could probably find the amulet and the rings, though she would never trust him if he admitted he could have them in hand at any time. Not to mention she would be involved with her godforsaken compatriots, and they would likely want to take part in obliterating the magic users of this realm. Useless lot of fools, but they circled her, refusing to leave her alone. It was infuriating.

In the end, he did nothing. She likely still suspected him of some kind of foul deed, and that actually warmed his heart. Natasha thought him a worthy adversary. She _saw_ him and through him, and still she thought him capable of damage and destruction.

He curled up in one of his hiding places, her taste still on his tongue and the memory of her body shuddering beneath his still sweet to remember. He had to plot _something,_ else she think he had lost his edge. Loki was the liesmith, and he constructed elaborate schemes. Illusion and finesse were his trademarks. How could he have fallen so far?

Closing his eyes, he tried to get a sense for the rings and amulet of power. There were literally hundreds of artifacts scattered through time and space, practitioners from all worlds crafting foci and parallel dimensions of a sort. He could track these things for her. With no concrete plans, it would be easy to devote some time to this task. Natasha would be grateful. She would think him reformed, or some such rot. It would give him greater freedom to move about unfettered in this world, and her gratitude could alter the specifics of their deal. That in and of itself would make it worth his while to continue this plan.

The gems called to him from various planes and times. They were just the sort of thing that Hydra would worship and the Ten Rings would kill for.

One ring at a time. 

Loki could almost feel the draw of magical artifacts when in his personal dimension. Perhaps he could draw on the power of Yggdrasil to find the ten rings and amulet Natasha desired. How grateful would she be? How wonderful a bond he could create from that, a way to draw her ever closer. He closed his eyes, a hand on the wall anchored to Yggdrasil. He pushed his power through the wall, sensing that faint thread of magic he was looking for.

 _Pulling_ through the ether of time and space was difficult. It taxed him heavily, and he swore bitterly at the expense this took. It should have been easy, but magic only came easily when he had an artifact to focus his energies with. Otherwise, to focus power on his own left him feeling drained and weakened afterward. He grit his teeth and used that pain as an anchor, drawing that which he desired closer. _You will be mine, damn you!_ he thought, not sure if he was referring to the ring or Natasha or both. _Come to me, damn your eyes!_ Now! _I command you!_

His fist closed around a solid object. A ring.

Breathing heavily, Loki crashed to his knees. His fingers uncurled with difficulty, revealing an ornate gold ring lying in his palm, a gilt setting for the carnelian stone in the center.

Power and desire pulsed through him, and Loki rose to his feet with ease. He could show Natasha his strength, have her panting with desire for him. He could turn her loyalties, have her destroy her own allies and cleave to him. Oh yes, it would be glorious, and such a long game she would never see it coming. she would think she had him trapped in their damned deal, but he was beyond its limitations.

Loki thrummed with power, teeth bared in a manic grin.

With a thought and no effort whatsoever, he opened a portal to the apartment in Astoria. It was the prearranged time they had agreed upon, his turn to dominate and control her. His mouth watered at the thought of her begging for release beneath him, breath and voice fracturing, her entire body quivering with need.

Natasha unlocked the front door, disengaged the alarms and placed her palm flat against the wall for the wards to properly recognize her and reset. Loki watched her spare, economical movements with appreciation. His wards recognized that as much as the palm print, but the motion was something familiar enough for her to use. Her gaze lit upon him standing there. "Eager to start?" she asked, not acting perturbed in the slightest.

Loki held out the ring in his outstretched palm. "I retrieved one."

Frowning slightly, she came forward. At his nod of encouragement, she picked up the ring. "It feels... warm. Not like you've been holding it, but…"

A touch of the _seidr_ on her after all, enough to feel the dissonance in the object. Interesting. Perhaps that was why she always knew where to look when he went invisible or used an illusory double.

Closing her hand over the ring, Loki grinned. "Yours," he declared in a fit of magnanimity. "The color becomes you."

Gingerly, she put the ring on. His soul sang at the implication that she would accept him and his gifts. "Same safe word?" she asked quietly. Usually she didn't need to ask, and Loki had to smirk at her knowingly.

"So eager to begin?"

"This is your time. We begin when you want."

Correct response. Loki seized her by the back of the neck and pulled her forward, bending down to kiss her. She clutched at his shirt for balance, and he _wanted_ so fiercely, so strongly. It was almost painful, but deliciously sweet at the same time. Natasha seemed to have the same level of need rising within her, and he knew he could satisfy that craving. She could lie all she liked to say that this was a simple consulting arrangement. She liked being in his bed, and she craved his touch. Base sentimentality, indeed.

He brought her to the couch and stripped her of all clothing quickly. Kneeling before her, his eyes took in her wet slit. "Your body already burns for mine, little one," he purred, spreading her knees apart. Her lips opened, but she said nothing. "You'll feel only what I want you to feel."

Natasha moaned when he brought his mouth to her flesh, and reached down to thread her fingers through his hair. Her fingers twitched as her hips shifted, trying to give him better access. She was slick and wet, dripping and aching for his touch. Loki licked into her methodically, slowly, until her hips bucked and she breathlessly begged for release.

Sitting back on his haunches, he took in her wanton pose, the flush of her skin and the fevered breathing. She wanted him so badly, was caught in his spell. "Beg me," he commanded. "Perhaps I will give you release."

"P-please," she stuttered. He couldn't tell if this was artifice of if she was truly that close to shattering. "Loki. Please, God, I need to come. Make me come, please."

Loki pulled her down to the floor and opened the front of his breeches, a forbidding expression on his face. "Convince me to be kind."

Natasha took his erect cock into her mouth at once and set her clever lips and tongue to work. Loki smiled, a cruel slash of teeth and banked desire, watching her take in his cock and suck on it as if her life depended on it. Extending his magic between her legs, she let out a strangled moan of pleasure. The vibration rumbled along his length, and Loki bit his lip to keep from crying out. _He_ was in control. _He_ dictated this entire encounter, and what she would have to endure.

But she came faster than he expected, and he held her in place as if she was planning to pull away once she was finished. She did not; if anything, she had even more enthusiasm for her task. Loki came without warning, and Natasha swallowed easily, still sucking as if she could milk even more out of him.

Pushing her away with his magic, Loki had to catch his breath. "To the bed," he commanded, his voice harsh but still desirous. "Lie down and prepare yourself for me."

She moved quickly and gracefully. He wanted the opportunity to compose himself, and he spelled himself invisible to catch his breath. When ready, he went into the bedroom and watched her masturbate for a time. There went his heart rate and breathing. By the roots of Yggdrasil, he _wanted_ her, a fierce and desperate need that threatened to devour him whole. She moaned and writhed deliciously, one hand rubbing at her clit and the other cupping a breast and pinching the nipple. Loki approached, still invisible, and let his will project his hands onto her flesh. Her moan was throaty, and her legs fell open wider, inviting him into her willing body.

"Fuck me, Loki," she purred, tilting her hips up. "I want you so much."

He wanted the words as much as he wanted the woman's soul, and he found himself rising to the occasion. He slipped into her slicked opening, reveling in the sound of her pleased groan. He fucked her hard and fast, as if he could seat himself within her body. That appealed more than he wanted to admit. He'd have her every which way, begging and pleading for him to let her come. He grit his teeth, glad she couldn't see his expression as he kept from spilling into her. His stamina was heightened, but so was his sensitivity to her body.

Natasha bucked and reached for him, nails clawing at his invisible thighs. Extending his will again, Loki held her down, binding her to the bed. She cried out, long and lusty, just the way he liked it. Her wet heat and the friction of his clothes against his skin was delicious.

Her response rang a little false, however, unsettling him. Her physical response was genuine enough, but Loki had a thread of doubt deep within. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't tell exactly what it was.

Sliding out of her, he used his will to flip her over, and he slammed into her from behind. She nearly shrieked in ecstasy at his touch, pulling at the sheets and partly muffling her cries. The edge of the ring caught the sheet, shredding it.

The ring. The cursed ring of power was changing her response, and Loki grew angry. He wanted this, yes, but he wanted it to be _real._

He pulled off the ring with his magic and sent it across the room to land on the dresser. Natasha sighed, moaning as he fucked her. This was more like her usual cries, and it comforted him. This was the balm he wanted, the _real_ part of her that she couldn't hide.

Natasha collapsed with a groan as she came, gasping for breath. Loki let go of his control and spilled into her, hips snapping. "You are _mine,"_ he snarled, fingers digging deep into her thighs. Even when she made soft mewling sounds, a helpless noise indicating she was overstimulated and oversensitive, Loki continued to thrust deep into her. His magic held her in place so that she couldn't pull at the sheets or try to scuttle away from him. _"Mine,"_ he repeated, snarling as he fucked her. "Now and always, you belong to _me._ Say it, Natasha," he all but shouted. _"Say it."_

She cried out, unable to speak properly. His magic was fueling him, his cock still hard and full inside her. He wanted this, _needed_ this, and it had to be the real thing, not a shadow created by the ring.

He fucked her until she was limp and exhausted, his magic the only thing keeping her upright. Then he turned her over to fuck her again. Loki only stopped when he was tired himself, cock sore and aching. He didn't how she was feeling, but Natasha lay still beneath him, mewling and gasping at intervals. "You took all of that very well," he said, looking over her sprawled form. He placed his palm on the center of her chest, feeling her erratic heartbeat. It was his usual signal that the scene was over.

"I don't think I can move. Or walk," she said, voice hoarse from her moaning. Loki wanted to preen at her weariness, his prowess able to overcome her. Despite his own exhaustion, he felt all powerful, as if he had barely even dipped into his stores of magic. His fingers trailed down her body, her eyes fluttering shut.

He could dip his fingers into her rib cage, cradle her beating heart in his hands. Her blood would spill across the sheets, would give him some clue about her resilience. Hel's spell would heal her, but he could see the extent of Natasha's soul if he did that.

But it would hurt her, so he did not.

"There are nine more rings," he told her, hands sliding across her skin. "And the amulet."

"Don't put yourself in danger," Natasha whispered.

An endearment? How wonderful. How delightful. How _wanted,_ and her style of statement. _This_ was real, at least.

"Sleight of hand, deception, illusions… There's no need for my person to be endangered." Loki's smile was meant to be comforting, but he knew from experience that she would likely see it as threatening instead.

"Steal from the wrong person, though…"

Loki snorted in disbelief. "Impossible. I am Loki, with glorious purpose and undeniable destiny."

Natasha couldn't sit up on her own, so he helped her. "Loki…"

"You burned with desire, insensible to other concerns once the ring was on your finger," he said abruptly, his former puffed pride deflating. Her weakened state troubled him. She was fragile. She was human. _She could die._

"I knew what the plan was in coming here," Natasha said with a frown. "That's the point."

Creating a case that would fit all ten rings, Loki levitated the ring and brought it closer. "Your senses were changed, and desire consumed you." The ring fell neatly into one of the ten slots, and Loki pulled her up further into a seated position. "It was wonderful, yes, but not you."

"I didn't feel different. Maybe a little horny, but—"

Loki pulled her close and kissed her fiercely, her taste still on his tongue. "The change is subtle." He frowned at her, not sure why he was telling her the truth. "You are mortal, and cannot wield the power it contains."

"Then is that what destroyed the Ten Rings?"

"Perhaps. Practitioners on this realm, even skilled ones, are still mortal, still fragile."

"So the rings aren't human in origin."

Frowning, Loki looked at the ring in the box. "No."

Natasha slid her hand down his clothed chest. "Then be careful. You have a lot of enemies on Yggdrasil." At his start of surprise, she smiled gently. "I remember a lot of things you've said."

Oh, how his soul sang. She thought of him, hung on his words and contemplated their meaning. She was affected by him, and it would be an artful game indeed to have her loyalties transfer to him. Especially because of how much he had wronged her. She would not be inclined to trust him, would not think his actions in her best interest.

"I can obtain these things for you. It is simple," he boasted, sure his satisfied grin was absolutely terrifying. Better for him to obtain them than her. This ring only amplified her lusty desires. Who knew what any of the others might do to her?

"Ophelia Sarkissian might be looking for those," she said, worry furrowing her brow. He wanted to fuck her again, this time slowly, savoring her taste and skin, reveling in her body. "She has some kind of practitioner with her. Hydra's been collecting them, apparently. It was one of those valuable pieces of information Meissen was selling from SHIELD databases."

Loki laughed. "Do you care, dear one? Does it pain you to think of me hurt?"

Natasha's soft and concerned expression slid off her face as she moved to get off the bed, her limbs creaky and almost awkward. Loki wanted to laugh, knowing he had pushed her body with pleasure just as she could do to him. Oh, this was beautiful, and he wanted to taste her again. Loki grabbed her arm to pull her back into his arms. She struggled but could not escape him. "You're _mine,_ Natasha," he purred. "You can fight it all you like, or deny the tie between us, but that does not erase reality. You belong to me, and I will _always_ enforce and defend that claim." He knew he would look feral and frightening, but her back was to his chest and he was growling in her ear. "You cannot escape this fate."

Her breath was rapid, and she remained silent for a time. "If you go too far, or act stupidly, you will die."

"A grand death, I'm sure." He stroked a breast, grinning at her sharp intake of breath. "And you will mourn me. You will grieve the loss. Would you go to Hel for me?"

"No," she replied, a faint tremor in her voice.

_"Liar."_

She was silent, not agreeing with or refuting the statement. Loki laughed, and licked the shell of her ear. "I am an accomplished liar myself, dear one. I know it when you lie."

"Do you really? When I've lied to you so often already?"

He continued to laugh as he fondled her. "We are liars both, Natasha. Who else would have us?"

She was silent again, and he nipped her earlobe playfully. Perhaps she realized that there really was no other fate for her. She had drawn his attention, proved to be a worthy adversary and had an addictive taste. He didn't understand her, and wanted to. He would never get over her, never want to let her go. She belonged to him.

Natasha remained silent when he pulled her back down to the bed, opening her legs to him. He licked her, lazy and slow, until she was nearly sobbing quietly. His magic held her down, pinning her in place so that she had to experience the onslaught of pleasure. She was helpless to stop him unless she used the safe word, even out of the scene, and she wouldn't use that word for something like this.

He continued licking into her until his body was ready to enter her again. Loki felt a moment of mercy, and cradled her head in his hands so that she could suck on his cock. She was clearly exhausted, mostly licking and applying gentle pressure. Still pinned to the bed, Natasha only sighed and used light touches. That must be what lovemaking felt like, Loki supposed, and he liked it. That surprised him.

When he came again, it felt as though energy was draining out of him. That was strangely pleasant, and he let his magic die down and fade. He laid beside her, cradling her close. Natasha had to realize she was his. No one else could have her, not even death. Hel would never give up Natasha's soul, so either he substituted it for another or simply stormed Helheim, releasing its borders to get her back. She might have been horrified by such a concept, but she was mortal. She had no idea the magnitude of power he would obtain in order to do it. Perhaps he could keep the ten rings and amulet, use them as foci to channel his power.

She would never be free of him. Never.

***

Amora and Skrall settled briefly in a different dimension. She hoped it wouldn't remind Skrall of his lost home, but at least he didn't seem to mind the locale that much. He collected small gemstones and semiprecious rocks to amuse her with, which was endearing. He loved her so, the besotted creature. Well, at the very least, she could put the stones to good use. Setting aside ten of the prettiest and clearest of them, Amora set about to crafting ten rings to serve as foci for her spells. Skrall was fascinated with the process, and collected whatever he thought she would need for the task.

Finally, she had ten gold rings, each serving as a focus for a different aspect of her magic. They flickered and shone, and she could feel her magic build and swell within her breast. "They're so beautiful," Skrall said, observing her handiwork.

Smiling fondly, Amora admired them. "Yes, I do like them. Even better, we'll have our revenge upon those that destroyed our home and stole the Essine Ruby from me."

Skrall wisely refrained from mentioning that he had stolen it in the first place. Amora approved of that. He merely nodded and followed her lead, maiming whatever forgotten demon inhabited this wasteland of a realm. Some were distantly related to the Dweller-in-Darkness, and that gave her a moment's pause. He had been imprisoned in the ruby by his nephew, so it was likely that the nephew would know how to track it down.

Nightmare fed off of the terror of mortals, rather like his late uncle. She knew that he would get no feast from her or Skrall, just as the Dweller-in-Darkness had not. Without fear, she brought Skrall with her to a portal into Nightmare's realm. He was tall and spindly, spun shadow over grating bone. His teeth were as sharp as knives, his eyes sunken hollows. While not pleased with her abrupt arrival, he at least dealt with it with far more grace. Amora simply didn't care about that, and pointed at him with determination. "Where is the Essine Ruby?"

The creature merely laughed at her. "Why would I tell you such a thing?"

"It was stolen from me. I mean to have it back."

"Good luck with that," Nightmare told her, sneering. "It was never meant to be found or used."

"It's a prison," she replied, voice sharp and angry. "But its prisoner is now dead, so there is no use for it as a prison any longer."

Nightmare rose from his throne and approached, anger in every step. "You do not dare."

Amora waited until the creature was close enough to touch her, though he didn't get that chance. She flung a magical net at him, pinning him to the wall. "Shall we have this conversation again?" she asked, her voice falsely bright.

He laughed, the long teeth flashing in the dim light. "You cannot make me speak."

She conjured long knives and stabbed him herself, driving the points deeply through his flesh and into the stone wall behind him. His minions cried out, not sure what to do when she had more knives and she as between them and their lord. They really were foolish and spineless, weren't they? Without clear commands, the minions weren't sure what to do. Ichor streamed out of the wounds, but he still bared his teeth at her. "Fool. I am Nightmare. I am the bringer of darkness and evil dreams. I cannot be killed!"

"Whoever said anything about killing you?"

At her nod, Skrall took over. He chopped off slivers of his feet, his legs, his hips, his stomach, and his fingers. "All I need is a head and neck to speak. I don't need the rest of you." Amora sneered, looking over the dripping mess beneath the body. "You'll heal. All immortal creatures do eventually. So you'll feel all of that regrowing, all the wounds sealing over. It will be agony, and then we get to cut it all off again until you tell me what I want." She dipped her fingers in the ichor, which didn't seem as acidic as his uncle's. She hummed contentedly after tasting it. "Mmm. Like licorice."

Nightmare looked discomfited by her smile, his ichor spread across her teeth. "You're not one of mine," he accused.

"You can track that ruby," Amora said, voice firm. She conjured a new knife and started carving into his skin as Skrall hacked at his hand. Nightmare howled, and the demons at his beck and call actually started to surge forward. At a nod of her head, Skrall stopped slicing at Nightmare and went to slay them all. She grinned at his war cry, at the howls of the demons being sliced apart and dying slowly from their wounds. "Oh, that sounds lovely, doesn't it?"

"You are utterly mad. You belong in my realm, locked away to taunt dreamers that wander down the wrong path."

"I do love a challenge, Nightmare. Your uncle didn't even put up much of a fight when I unraveled his very existence."

He shuddered at the soft purr in her voice. "You enjoy death."

"I find I have quite the taste for it," Amora told him with a grin. "You will give me the means to track this ruby." Her grin widened, sharp as her knife. "Or I'll take my pleasure from you in a completely different way. I'll have you screaming yet, little Nightmare. And I'll get what I want. I always get what I want."

Given Nightmare's profession, he was used to fearful things. He was used to utter terror, horror beyond imagining and soul searing pain. He simply wasn't used to it being inflicted on _him,_ so he ultimately did begin to scream. His minions were cut down as they approached, Skrall being so very thorough in his movements. Amora cut into him methodically, drank his blood and dabbled with his internal organs. She sang in time with his screams, laughing when he started to beg her to stop.

Even after he told her how to track the ruby, she didn't stop cutting into him. He tried telling her about other gems, other realms, about the ways he had been poisoning the dreams of highborn souls everywhere. She took notice of his work on Asgard, discontent and fear starting to drive a wedge between boyhood playmates.

She paused when he told her the date. "I must have walked backward," she murmured softly to herself. Putting down the knife she held, Amora went to Skrall's side. "We have work to do, my darling. Time to get my pretty bauble back."

Nightmare sobbed with relief when she disappeared in a flash of green. It was days before his minions dared to approach and free him, weeks before he was fully healed. He shivered at the thought of her ecstatic joy when she tortured him, continuing for fun even after she had what he wanted. It shamed him that he had sunk so low. At least his uncle was dead already and his children were in realms far from his own.

Amora might be able to track the Essine Ruby, but that didn't mean she would be able to hold it for her own for long. It was cursed, and she never stopped to ask about that.

He grinned into the darkness of his realm, gathering his strength. Someday, she would pay.

***  
***


	4. Demons In The Dark

Natasha couldn't tell what woke her, but in an instant she was awake and alert. There was no rolling out of bed; Loki was on top of her, watching her sleep with an intense look on his face that was difficult for her to describe. "Many things were said that I shouldn't have said," he told her suddenly. "You've said things in return you might not have."

"What are you—?"

He pushed off of her, agitation in his step. It looked like he was wearing two of the ten rings; her research indicated that these rings were not exactly the same as the ones that the Ten Rings terrorist organization used in the past. Those were Makluon in origin, and had apparently been destroyed in a blast in the Middle East as far as anyone could tell. These were more elaborate in origin, and had been something Dr. Strange had been studying when he was consulted about the Makluon rings. Not the same entity, but still powerful and dangerous.

Loki's eyes blazed. "We will see in time what happens. I have a plan."

She sighed when he disappeared. That was rather what she was afraid of. No point in going back to bed, however. There was probably only one other potential insomniac still up at nearly three am. "JARVIS? Is Clint still awake?"

"Mr. Barton is in the common room watching Adult Swim cartoons and insulting them."

"He would." Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she scrubbed at her face. "Thanks, JARVIS. I'll head that way."

"Very good, Ms. Romanoff. I'll alert him to your arrival."

She plodded into the common room, where Clint handed over a bowl of popcorn. "I made more," he said without preamble. "This isn't a job, is it?" he asked in concern.

Natasha knew he wasn't fishing for details; he was Level Seven and she had been promoted to Level Nine not long before the Battle of New York. Sometimes she shared details about what she was working on, sometimes not. He knew when to back off and not probe deeper. That wasn't what he was after now. She shook her head and munched on some popcorn. "Loki arrived. More cryptic than usual."

Clint went very still. "What did he want?"

"He's collecting these rings of power right now."

"That _don't_ belong to the former Ten Rings, you said."

"They don't look the same, and the effect the one ring had was… memorable." As in, she had actually stayed in Astoria overnight before returning to Avengers Tower and still felt sore and achy between her legs. He had been driven during the encounter and after it, and mulling over his words, she decided that he had been right. Her response had been different, but so had his. Natasha looked over at Clint. "You didn't want details before."

"Still don't now, to be honest. It's bad enough I know vaguely what you do with him."

Her lips curled into a slight smile. "You never did like that aspect of my skill set."

"You worked hard to make your life your own, Tasha. It should stay that way."

"I chose this."

"It was sacrifice yourself or sacrifice the world," Clint said bluntly. "We both know which you'd choose. If it's a choice like that, it's no choice at all. I get it, I do. But using yourself in that way... playing off your own weaknesses... I've never liked that."

"No, you haven't," Natasha agreed. "He's tried to tear me down, he's abused too many people to count. He's _psychotic_ and unpredictable. But he's also declared that I'm not allowed to die, I belong to him and he would raze Helheim if I ever did die."

"Jesus Christ, Tasha." Clint nearly dropped his bowl. "That's serious." He looked at her nod and then looked away unhappily. She wondered what he was feeling, if there was spreading dread in the pit of his stomach or if he could learn to roll with this as well. "He's fucking insane."

"And I'm the resident Loki expert."

"Fuck."

"I do. That's part of the issue."

Clint actually looked pained and threw popcorn at her. "Don't try making me laugh. This is serious. And awful. And awfully serious."

"Yes to all of the above."

Natasha fell silent and put some of the popcorn into her mouth, even if she couldn't taste it. All of Clint's extra butter normally had her teasing him. Tonight, everything was like cardboard. This wasn't a feeling of dread, exactly, more like knowing that something terrible _was_ going to happen. In her line of work, that wasn't too far off the mark. "He's... Not broken, exactly, not in the sense that he can't ever get back up and be a danger to us. It's more like... How much do you know of ancient Norse customs?"

"Like Vikings?" She nodded, and he shrugged. "You'd mentioned you were reading Norse eddas before. I never picked it up or anything. But I've seen the TV show. Raiding and pillaging and killing each other."

Natasha gave him a thin smile. "How do you think those people would view Loki?"

"Like a fucking lunatic," he said honestly.

"No value to his skill set," she said quietly. "They value swordplay, racking up a death count, what physical prowess can do. They don't value knowledge for its own sake, magic, illusions, delusions... Now add to that finding out he isn't who he thought he was. That he's the childhood monster in the closet. That everything he ever valued is not only degraded but a lie."

"I'd be pissed off."

"That's what he is," Natasha said, putting the popcorn bowl aside. She couldn't taste it and she wasn't watching TV anyway. "It's not an excuse, just an explanation as to how he got to this point. He's not doing himself any favors, driving away everyone that might be helpful or even try to forgive him."

"But he latched onto _you."_ Clint paused, probably remembering his time when Loki had possessed him. He was able to push aside his distaste to analyze this situation clinically. "You're not Asgardian. You wouldn't follow the same rules, and you treat him like a force to be reckoned with. He can feel superior with you." She nodded, leaning back in her seat and tucking her feet beneath her. "Doesn't mean it's true, though," he added, making her smile a little.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Clint. He gets to dominate me and feel superior with his magic. I let him. I was never trained for that. I get my own back in different ways you don't want to hear about." She smirked at his discomfited expression. "Sometimes, you're such a prude, you know that? Silly American morality."

"You use that to your advantage."

"Just so." She drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. "But I can break him. I could leave him shattered and helpless." Natasha looked at him, taking in his concern. Was it for her? Or what it would take out of her to destroy another living creature? Loki wasn't innocent, not by a long shot, but he had been downright helpful lately. Was she willing to kill him in cold blood rather than twist him to her purpose?

"You don't want to," Clint observed.

"I do that, I might not ever be able to balance that much red."

Clint sighed and put aside his own bowl of popcorn. "Because this isn't a pitched battle?"

"Something like that. He's a killer, but it's not something he delights in planning or doing. It's an afterthought, as horrible as that sounds. Collateral damage, not his main purpose. I have no problem eliminating those that go out of their way to kill or destroy. But that's not Loki. He's... _helpful_ right now. For entirely selfish purposes, sure, but it's actually serving our needs also. He's tracking down these rings so we don't have to. They're having an effect. I think that's the disturbing thing about it. I can tell it's changing him, and it's not for the better. Those things are dangerous, and he's going to want to keep them. They're focal points for his powers, of course he'll want them. But he shouldn't have them, and there's no way I'm going to be able to take them away from him."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but can't you seduce them away from him?"

"And what's to stop him from getting them back at some other time? I don't know how to keep them under lock and key. I can't keep him from casting invisibility on himself and seeing where they're hidden. SHIELD doesn't have a secure magical lockdown as far as I know."

"And you would," Clint sighed. "There's Asgard, I suppose."

"Can you ask Thor to lock up artifacts that might be making his brother even crazier?" She nodded at his wince. "Yeah. Who wants to tell him that? He keeps wanting to think the best of that bastard, and it seems cruel to kill off that dream."

Clint paused for a moment. "Or is it crueler to let him think Loki can be saved?"

Natasha sighed. "He should figure it out eventually. I hope."

"Since when were we family counselors?" Clint asked, throwing up his hands. "Us, probably the definition of family dysfunction."

She threw popcorn at Clint's head, unerringly hitting his forehead. "Some of my past lives have had perfectly normal childhoods, thank you very much."

He snorted and shook his head. "Not exactly a ringing endorsement to guide those two."

"But that means we understand what they're going through." Natasha paused, wondering if she should even articulate her worst fears. "He's going to implode someday, for all the containment we may try to do. I just hope he doesn't take the earth with him."

Giving her a sad expression, Clint sighed. "And so you make the sacrifice play."

"Someone has to."

"I just wish that someone wasn't you."

"Sometimes, I wish that, too."

***

Amora sat still in the heart of a pocket dimension she had stumbled upon during her walks along Yggdrasil. It was small and spare, with walls of ice anchored to the roots of the great World Tree. There were no pieces of furniture, not even a hearth to warm the place. She didn't care and neither did Skrall. Green fire burned from wall sconces she created, giving her enough light to paint the floor with the acidic blood from the Dweller-in-Darkness and ichor from Nightmare. Mixed together, it sizzled and burned, creating a noxious venom that assaulted her senses and made her almost want to run screaming from the site. She had never thought to collect such things, but Skrall had thought it useful. He knew the ways of a hunter and gatherer, having no one to help aid him on his home dimension, and had known that most sorcerers in tales used the blood of powerful enemies for spells. She hadn't even paid attention to what he was doing before she left their dimensions, so that made her doubly grateful for having him close.

Skrall leaned on his axe and watched her work, not interrupting. He had no idea what the summoning spell would do, and didn't exactly care. It was one of the things she liked about him, because he would never challenge her superiority with magic.

As the chant was completed, smoke rose from the outlined circle and runes on the floor. It turned to fire, burning as hot as Amora's fireball spells had when she defeated the Dweller-in-Darkness. The heat seared her skin and had her shutting her eyes to keep them from shriveling in their sockets. Amora could hear Skrall's hiss of anger, but kept her lips shut. _Wait,_ she thought to Skrall. _Do not act, do not shatter the spell. Wait._

Then as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The fires abruptly died down, and the smoke no longer seemed noxious or fearsome.

Suspended in front of her was the Essine Ruby.

Crowing in triumph, Amora snatched the ruby from the air and put it on. The ruby felt alive, pulsing with energy. Coupled with the ten rings on her fingers, she felt as though all of the energies of the World Tree could flow through her. She could command time and space, all of the Nine Realms and the fractured dimensions and worlds that sprang up amongst the branches and roots of Yggdrasil.

She smiled at Skrall, her expression feral. "Time to take down Asgard."

***

Loki sat in the center of the bed in the Astoria apartment, stark naked, four of the ten rings on his fingers. They were gaudy, but had altered their shape to fit his fingers perfectly. His heart beat unsteadily in his chest, and a fierce desire coursed through him. It was dark and terrible, with dreams of the golden spires of Asgard going up in flames.

He waited patiently for Natasha, shuddering at the memory of glassy eyed stares of people in the city. It was a dream, not reality, but it terrified him even as he desired it. He had gouged his arms and legs with sharpened nails, taken his knives and cut protective runes into his skin. Even so, the dreams continued to come unabated. Natasha would be able to drive it away. He was certain of that, as she was a soothing balm on his soul. This wasn't the same burn of the oils she had worked into his blood, but a restlessness he could not name. It was discomfiting, irrational and entirely unwanted. He didn't want Asgard to burn. He had wanted to rule it, to show that he was the equal of any Asgardian, that he deserved to be on the throne. He had the strength and cunning to be a king, and it had been his birthright, stolen from him to fill an empty cradle.

Pain shot through him at that thought. Frigga had never treated him differently from Thor. She had always loved him, soothed his hurts and sought to fill his mind with ever more complex spells and theories. She had even discussed arcane lore with Karmilla just to teach him more _seidr_ than she had been familiar with. She had even arranged to learn more _spá_ and _galdr_ to teach him, though he was not as comfortable with those techniques. "You are a creature of air," Frigga had laughed. "Of course the _seidr_ would be familiar to you. The real challenge is to find your opposite and master it."

He was _trying,_ but he was failing. And it _hurt._

Loki didn't even hear when Natasha came in. It took everything in him to breathe, to try to find some kind of calm. He startled violently when she touched his shoulder, a sheen of sweat on his skin, his hair hanging in loose, messy waves around his pale face. When he opened his mouth, he found he could not speak.

"Take them off," she said gently. "Don't do this to yourself."

"I can't," he whispered, voice breaking. "You can't wear them."

Natasha closed her hand over his, their fingers interlaced. He shuddered at the sight of them, knowing he could never measure up to her expectations of him. He was a _failure._ He was a fool. He was posturing and lying to everyone, and she simply couldn't see it.

"Let go," she said softly, her lips at his temple. "Give them up to me, Loki. I'll keep them safe."

"You cannot," he gasped. "They will destroy you."

"And that's what they're doing to you right now."

He let out a choked breath. "I can call demons, Natasha." Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of his lips, beyond his control. "Asgard can burn. Ragnarok will come. _I can do it."_

"But you won't," she said, sounding unperturbed. "Fantasy is one thing, but you won't do it. You won't destroy Asgard."

Frigga had said the same thing. "How can you be so certain? I'm a monster."

"Because when you came for the Tesseract, you introduced yourself as Loki of Asgard." Natasha threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him against her chest when he was wracked by shudders. "Deep down, it's still your home. You wouldn't destroy your home."

"All I do is destroy. I am full of demons..."

"Not that. To you, Asgard is inviolate."

"I dream that it burns," he admitted, holding onto her tightly. "It burns, everyone dies, and I rule over an empty husk of a city."

"That's not what you want. Those aren't your dreams, Loki." She pushed him back so that he could look her in the eye. "It's the rings. If the one ring that day changed how we responded to each other, those four you're wearing aren't doing you any favors."

"I am more powerful—"

"And not acting like yourself. What good is it to rule if it's not you?"

She made sense. Some dim part of him still responded to logic, and recognized her words as truth. Another part was seduced by the power inherent in the rings. He could have his revenge on them all. He could enslave whoever he wanted. He could turn Natasha from her purpose and comrades and bend her will to serve him.

But it wouldn't be real. None of it would have the same satisfaction. Natasha had to serve him out of her own free will. His victory would be soured if he couldn't have that.

He reluctantly held out his hand. It felt as though he was shoving daggers into his heart when he used his magic to rip them off of his fingers. They went careening across the room, clinking to the floor like so much debris. Wracking sobs came from his lips, and he bent his head in shame that she should see him like this.

Natasha simply cradled him, her heartbeat steady and her back straight as he clutched her close, holding onto her for dear life. "And so you have come to me," he whispered against her skin. "A balm. The quiet before the storm."

She stroked his hair and let out a quiet sigh. "You _are_ the storm, Loki."

Everything he touched turned to ash. All his plans fell apart. _Failure._

Loki let her chain him to the bed, though he could have broken free at any time. She carefully bent down and picked up each ring, placing them in the box he had created. One by one, he could feel the errant magic be sealed away. When the box was closed, he could breathe easier, his mind under his own control again. He felt utterly lost, unmade, unraveled and woven back together incorrectly, loose threads fraying at the ends. A single sharp tug could send his mind careening into the ether, and he would never recover.

If she wanted to, Natasha could destroy him completely.

Instead, she brushed soft cloths and feathers along his bare skin. She took ice cold objects and left them to warm on his abdomen. She took a fountain pen and sketched designs and random whorls across his skin. Loki was left sobbing with need he didn't understand, and he pleaded with her to let him enter her body. He would be so good, so good, whatever she wanted him to be, please, please, this was madness, he was already so lost, so out of control, he needed her to rein him in. He needed her limits.

Loki's heart stopped. Was this love?

He shattered under her touch, spilling into her hands and calling out her name like it was a talisman to invoke the heavens. He openly sobbed, chest wrenched wide open for her inspection, and her expression was a distant mask.

"Don't wear the rings," she insisted. "Find them, keep them. Put them in the box. Promise me you won't wear them. They will destroy you."

It was what he deserved. He knew that, even though he also knew he could never properly immolate himself. That damned ledger would be the end of him.

"I promise," he lied.

She didn't know, and she accepted it as truth. The wrongness of it burned him from the inside out, but he swallowed down the pain as his due.

_I promise._

***

In her dreams, Asgard burned. The sight of Heimdall was blocked, and Amora slipped into the palace unseen. Skrall's axe severed heads, and he mounted the four heads of the royal family on pikes to hang at the front gates. Their eyes were wide with fright, mouths open in silent screams, no mercy given.

In reality, Heimdall saw right through her spells. Amora barely even stepped into the realm before he was there with his sword in hand, eyes flashing and expression grim. "You were banished from this realm, and such an order from my King must be fulfilled."

Amora pulled her lips back in a sneer and started to work her magic to bind him. "Lapdog to cruel gods. Blind to true glory! You are nothing. You are insignificant before my power!"

His sword was sharp and his movements were faster than she could track. He sliced off her hands before she could even tell that he had moved, and Skrall was still charging from his position in the distance where he had been fending off the royal guards. Amora screamed, high and shrill, her pain and rage making her into a feral thing. Her hands tumbled down and were kicked off of the Bifrost, into the ether of space. To add insult to injury, Heimdall seized the Essine Ruby from around her throat and yanked. The chain broke, allowing him to throw it over the edge of the bridge. Then he grasped her by the throat and lifted her up, sword poised at her heart. 

"By King Odin's command, you return to Asgard on punishment of death." The words were pronounced carefully, no emotional inflection at all. His expression never changed, and she had the feeling that he saw this as nothing more than duty. It wouldn't make any difference if he killed her or not. He simply didn't care about her. She didn't matter.

Before the tip of the blade could do more than pierce her skin, Skrall knocked into Heimdall. His sword went flying from his hand, and Amora was thrown across the bridge. Her blood spattered the floor of the Observatory, and she saw Skrall and Heimdall locked in combat. She could heal if she had time for her magic to craft new hands. If she left, she could heal. But if she lost Skrall, she could never survive another assault. It had been foolish to come now, before she had any kind of army. She had been so sure that her power could overcome Heimdall and the palace guards, that she could defeat them all. She wanted it _so much,_ the desire overpowering her senses.

Skrall kicked at Heimdall viciously and set the Observatory in motion as he ran to Amora's side. He picked her up and leaped through the portal as soon as it opened, heedless of where they were going to end up. It didn't matter, as long as Heimdall didn't kill her.

But she had failed, and it _burned_ her. Someday, she would find a way to defeat the House of Odin and slay its members one by one.

***

Marissa Tourney was on her third life and feeling rather good about that. She had an elegant apartment in TriBeCa and a number of magical items decorating it. They served as focal points of conversation for guests but also worked as protective wards. Most never knew of her two prior lifetimes; it was better that way. Umar needed to remain dead, and the petty human life she had before was nothing but a revival of her prior servitude to another. As Marissa, she was free and controlled her own actions. She could revel in decadence and focus on her studies without any unwanted interruptions.

Until today.

The proximity alarms were clanging, a discordant note that meant immediate danger. She dropped her teacup and raced from her airy kitchen to the bedroom. At all times she had a bag packed and ready to go in case this had ever happened. Her last life as Chen Lan had taught her that nothing was sacred to humans as well as demons, nothing. She hadn't needed the reinforcing lessons, but it meant she was constantly ready.

No one was in the apartment that she could see, but she felt a presence. While it was tempting to slip into the bag and retrieve one of the more powerful artifacts, she would not. Someone was here, and that someone would see.

She got as far as the entryway to her apartment when she collided with a solid object. As she fell backward, a hand gripped her throat and raised her up off of the floor, her feet dangling. The bag fell from her hand as she grasped the invisible wrist, trying to keep her airway open. She had to breathe. There was no way to turn herself into pure energy, she had lost that ability long ago, and this was one of the few times she longed to have it back.

"You were once acquainted with Dr. Strange," the invisible form said. The spell dropped and she saw a tall man dressed in leather and gold, black hair slicked back from a pale face, his eyes cold as he contemplated her. "I didn't sense your presence at first. You masked it well."

"What do you want?" Marissa choked, not bothering to deny his accusation. If he got past her wards, she didn't want to know what powers he possessed.

"The lovely little ring in your bag."

His hand tightened fractionally, and she understood that he would take it from her corpse if she refused him. Then it would take too much time to resurrect herself, and her entire life as Marissa would be lost. _Damn him._

"Could you have taken it at any time?" she gasped.

"Your concealment charms were very good," the stranger said, lips drawing back in a slick smile that chilled her to the bone. "Until I deliberately triggered your alarm, I had no idea where it was hidden in this place."

Marissa's eyes drifted shut as she tried to suck in a breath. "Did you want anything else?"

He thought about it. "Do you know why Strange disappeared a year ago?"

"He was tangling with Dormammu again," Marissa said. "They always fight." She left out her part in their past history. "Dormammu had a new weapon, a gemstone. Such power, and Strange ignored it. He thought he could control it."

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know."

The man let go of her abruptly, and she fell to the floor. "Give me the ring."

With shaking fingers, she withdrew the ring from the bag. Before placing it in his outstretched palm, she looked up at him. "Now what?" She had once nearly defeated Strange, she had conspired with and against Dormammu, she had ruled a dimension and she had found a way to transfer her consciousness from one body to another. In spite of all that, this figure in front of her frightened her in a way she could not express.

Plucking the ring from her fingers, he grinned, teeth sharp like knives. "Now you get to live, little witch. I don't need anything else from you."

She waited until the portal he stepped through sealed before dissolving into tears.

***

"How many rings do you have?" Natasha asked as soon as Loki arrived on schedule in the Astoria apartment. She had spent the past several weeks chasing down leads regarding magical practitioners that have gone missing. Some of them seemed to be snatched up by Hydra; Steve knew that they had mixed technology and mythology in the past, believing the Tesseract to be an ancient Norse artifact. Various agents were looking into Hydra and others into AIM; Natasha was off the table thanks to her interaction earlier with Ekaterina Sarkissian. Either cousin would likely recognize her right away and know they were compromised.

So she stayed to the shadows, as much as it itched. She could do more if she was on the scene, but lower level agents had to be used. Clint was sent to go after Hydra with Steve, which at least made her feel a little better. At least she knew _someone_ competent would be there, and the two of them could easily handle Hydra agents.

"Six."

"Where's the box?"

"Safe."

The exchange was more terse than usual, and she could see his pent up energy. "How long have you worn them?" she asked quietly.

Loki whirled around to face her, removed vambrace in hand as if he was about to throw it at her head. "You do not command me outside the confines of this arrangement."

"So you lied."

Though the words were pitched low and did not carry any inflection, he flinched as if struck. He turned and put the vambrace down. Head bowed, he carefully unlaced the rest of his armor. "You cannot know how it feels." He turned as he shrugged out of his coat. "The only one you could have possibly obtained was from Marissa Tourney, but you could not have tricked her into revealing the location without magic."

"Taking them is one thing," Natasha began evenly. "You shouldn't be wearing them."

"I am a god," he began, though he did not sound like his usual self at all. It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself, as if he was losing sight of his own goals. This had to be a horrible sign. Natasha swallowed down her misgivings and stood from where she was seated on the living room couch. He looked at her, expressionless. "A god."

"You've been having nightmares, then," she guessed. He started at her touch. On closer inspection, she could see hollows beneath his eyes, deep shadows gouged into his pale skin. Fine wrinkles were present, as if he had aged by an impossible amount between visits. "How long have you been walking Yggdrasil?"

"I don't know."

Natasha pushed him down into the couch. "Let's call off today's play. I don't—"

_"No."_

Loki appeared horrified, as if he had shouted and thrown fireballs instead of whispering. He was losing his self control, whatever he had of it, and that was troubling. "No," he repeated. His hand trembled on his knee, and his eyes skittered across the furniture to where his vambraces and coat were. "No. No, no, no..."

Stepping into his line of vision, Natasha gave him a hard look. "Loki."

He snapped his eyes to hers, taking in her commanding stance. "It's difficult to remember that sometimes." He paused, lifting his hand from his leg. It came away tacky with blood, and Natasha nearly broke her impassive façade to show her dismay. "I've been long away. But the time... The time calls to me. I could not be late."

"Not if you want to keep the deal in place."

That didn't make him rise up and be angry with her. What the fuck were these rings doing to him? And what would happen if he had all ten of them? Or the amulet?

"Have you found the amulet?"

Again, he reacted as if slapped. His lips twitched, and he grasped his thigh tightly. No words seemed to be forthcoming, and she could only imagine this meant that no, he did not find the amulet yet. Natasha had to believe this meant that he wouldn't completely unravel, because if he did, she wasn't sure she could rein him in.

"Kneel."

He responded automatically, and the shift in his position allowed her to see the changing shadows on his breeches. She couldn't tell if the blood was his or not, as the fabric itself was not torn. Natasha grasped his hair and yanked sharply, exposing the column of his throat. There was gratitude in his eyes, naked and open for her view. Had he no defenses left?

"You're going to tell me where you've hidden those rings."

Loki shuddered and took in a shattered breath. "Yggdrasil."

"How many others could find them?"

"Only I could find it." His breath hitched. "They call to me. I have to go back to them. I have to find them." His eyes slid shut. "But if I do, I'll burn Asgard."

"You can stop. Hydra can't get them if they're in Yggdrasil. No one can get—"

"There are ways. There are always ways," he interrupted, eyes snapping open. They blazed with a fraction of his former fury. "Do not speak of that you do not know. There are those that can warp time and space, that can see into the World Tree and find them."

"How many do you know of?"

Loki's eyes slid away from hers. "I don't know." He sagged in her grasp, heedless of the pain in his scalp. Natasha didn't let go of his hair, and he sagged as far as she would let him. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..."

She abruptly let go of his hair and slapped him across the face. The sharp sting of it jolted him out of that state, and he looked at her in surprise. "You hit me."

Natasha grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him up until he could get his feet back under him. "You're not here to be coddled. You're not here to be a baby. Of course I hit you. And I'll do it again if I think you need it."

Something shifted in his eyes, and his lips curled into the ghost of a smile. "I like that."

"I know you do."

"Are you going to hit me again?"

She could hear the longing in his voice. That he didn't bother to conceal it meant he trusted her that much or he was that exhausted. Without a word, she pushed him toward the couch, and he fell into the seat she vacated. Natasha straddled his waist and took his face in her hands. "Whose blood is on you?"

"Some of it is mine. Do you care, Natasha? Are we bound, you and I? Can you empathize with a monster such as I?" His lips curled in a sardonic smile. It widened when she let go of his face and grasped his wrists, pinning them to the back of the couch. "Or will you hurt me? Is this the time when you put me down?"

"How did you get to be covered in your own blood?" she asked, voice flat. "And who else's is on you right now?"

"I carved runes into my skin. Then I slew a dragon."

It could have been metaphorical, but with Loki that very well could have been literal. "And then?" she prompted when he fell silent.

"I used the dragon bones to hide the power signature of the rings," he said, pride creeping into his voice. "And its heart was consumed in a ritual to locate the amulet and the rest of the rings throughout the realms." There he was. Now Loki sounded more like himself.

"Did you find them?"

"I will," Loki said, confidence in his voice. He yanked one hand out from beneath hers and captured the back of her neck, pulling her down for a kiss. "I'll find them all, and then nothing will ever hold me back."

"From what?"

His eyes glittered, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking of. "There's darkness out there. Demons that put mine to shame, that makes your dripping river of blood look like a single drop. None shall try to claim me again."

Loki kissed her hungrily, desperately, as if he was still sinking beneath despair. She filed away the comment for later, for a time when he was further under her spell and would likely respond. Right now, it was enough that he wasn't so broken; there was no telling what he would destroy in a mindset like that.

She had always been very good at rationalization.

***

Skrall held Amora in his arms as she sobbed in pain and misery. He looked around, not sure where they actually were. It didn't matter which realm, but at least there were no enemies lying in wait as far as he could see. The land was a barren tundra, thick frost covering everything. He didn't mind the cold, and it would slow the bleeding. She was too pale, even for her, her breathing shallow from shock. "It will take so long to heal," she whispered to him, shivers wracking her body. She seemed so frail suddenly, and he was terrified she would die of her wounds after all. "How can I kill them all when I'm like this?" she wailed, letting out an angry scream of frustration.

"How do we have you heal faster?"

"I need my magic. My tools." She shivered again, teeth chattering. "I need lives to sacrifice, magic to fuel the spells, if there are such practitioners here."

Looking around, Skrall could see greenery sprouting out the bright splashes of her blood. "Will growth from your lifeblood work?" he asked, frowning.

She followed his line of sight and began to laugh. It was a horrid, hysterical laughter, and Skrall didn't understand it. "There is _magic_ on this world. There will be mages. Witches. Sages. Enchanters and spell casters of all kinds. We will set a trap," she declared, teeth bared in an ugly, feral expression. If Skrall didn't already love her, he would have been frightened of this. She was a wild, tortured and demented thing, the crazed creature falling out of the sky.

But he loved her, and he would die for her if he had to.

"How do we do this?" he asked.

Amora laughed, shrill and frenzied. When she gestured with her arms, more blood flew from her wounds, which weren't sealing. Greenery bloomed, the same bright green of her clothing and with little yellow flowers that matched her hair. It made her laugh harder, until tears streamed from her eyes. The teardrops fell to the ground, freezing into crystals.

"They will come," she said finally, surety in her tone. "And I will heal, and I will find my lost treasures. Then I will raze that entire dimension to the ground and dance on its ashes."

Under her direction, he sketched the magic circles she would need, the runes and sigils that signified her craft. Her gifts tended to draw on the power of fire, and consolidating that kind of magic seemed to agitate her even more. But when the first practitioners of the craft arrived, spindly creatures more curious than dangerous, her deadly traps sprang into action. She drank their blood as they screamed for mercy in their native tongues, and their beating hearts were shredded between her teeth. Amora had Skrall slice them open and toss aside their entrails, but she read the signs cast within the patterns made. He watched bones grow and project from her bleeding stumps, followed by tendon and muscle, then finally skin and nails.

The tundra was crowded with bodies of the dead, and Amora didn't care about the carnage. She held her hands in front of her, moving each finger carefully and precisely. A forest had grown up around them in the time it took for the healing to be complete, and bones from the dead littered its floor. Her clothes were torn and her hair was matted, not as badly as when she had tumbled out of the sky into his home dimension. She was still beautiful, but Skrall knew that others might not see it that way. They would see the gaunt hollows of her cheeks, the shadows under her eyes and the tangles in her hair. They would see the rips in her clothes, the prominences of her bones, the feverbright cast to her eyes. They would think her sickly, diseased, someone to be locked away in a prison and never let out.

Someone stupid might actually try it and be slain for his efforts.

Snapping her fingers, Amora called forth the bodies of the dead from the forest floor. The shambling fingers were decaying, splintered bits of bone protruding from the rotted edges of broken flesh. "Find any remnants of my magic on this bloody planet and bring it back to me."

Skrall cradled her close to him, fearing for her safety; her sanity was a lost cause. She had stared into the abyss for far too long even before she had met him. Healing had taken so much out of her, and this spell commanding took even more. She was trembling, her body devouring itself to fuel her magic and keep her alive. By rights, even she should have died by now.

"Amora," he said, his voice gravelly and rough with emotion. "You need to eat. You need to rest. There is still more healing to be done."

She waved him off impatiently. It wasn't important at this time, but his job was to protect her from all dangers, even if the dangerous one was herself.

Skrall grabbed her and shook her violently. She fell to his feet, and she _growled_ at him, hands hooked like claws. Power shimmered all around them, and Skrall could feel the press of it in the back of his skull. "You dare," she hissed.

"I protect you. I counsel you. I save you." He knelt beside her, feeling the pressure increase inside of his skull. Blood dripped from his nose, but he ignored it. That meant nothing in the face of her rage and failing body. Skrall grasped her hands, feeling his own blister and peel from the rising heat under her skin.

"Amora," he said, voice even as if she wasn't burning him alive. "If you do not fully heal, your enemies will find you. They will finish you. And you will never slay the House of Odin."

It was the right thing to say.

The temperature in her hands dropped abruptly, and she looked at him with wide eyes. "I am not weak. I am more powerful than their sages."

Skrall placed his hand on her chest. She was so thin, so frail. He worried for her, but would never let it show. She had her pride, after all. "But your body is not. Your mind consumes your flesh to feed your magic. When your body fails, they win."

Amora pitched forward into his arms. "Heal me, Skrall. They cannot win. I must prevail, I must get everything back." Her grip on his arms was painfully tight despite her weakness. "I will call down the darkness, the shadow demons. I will bring fire upon them all."

"Of course," he whispered into her hair. "We'll do it together."

They were both damned anyway.

***  
***


	5. Beautiful Mess

Tony Stark strolled into the massive kitchen of the Avengers common area as Natasha was eating breakfast. He had a large cup of coffee in hand and looked as though he hadn't slept in a week. "So. When you're not sparring with the crazed demigod of lies and disappearing God only knows where, what is it that you're up to?"

It was far too early in the morning for this, and she hadn't been able to sleep well the night before. Natasha had found the practitioner that Loki had threatened in TriBeCa, and the woman had still been shaken, saying that Loki had been just as bad as Dormammu. The name hadn't meant anything to her, of course, but Marissa Tourney was only too happy to tell Natasha all about his evil deeds in various dimensions and how often he had fought Dr. Strange. Her gut twisted as she listened; was this what Loki was dreaming of moving toward? If not Midgard, would he try to rule over a pocket dimension first, then raise an army to truly defeat their resources? There was only so much SHIELD and the Avengers could do.

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been tracking magical signatures since Loki first broke in here," Tony said, as serious as she had ever seen him. Damn, she had actually forgotten about that. She was _tired,_ and that was going to make her sloppy. She was ready to call it a day already and take a nap.

"And?" she prompted when he fell silent.

"I have an algorhythm to detect Loki." Tony paused, as if gathering his myriad thoughts together and trying to decide what to say next. That couldn't bode well.

"Why aren't you using it, then?"

"I am. It's a subroutine built into JARVIS' security systems now. It's an automatic scan that reaches throughout Manhattan. If I really felt like it, I could pump a little more juice into the mechanism and get it to all five boroughs and part of Jersey. But nobody likes Jersey, and I'll bet even Loki wouldn't care about Newark or the Palisades."

Natasha resisted the urge to rub her temples. "The point?"

"I can detect Loki for the most part, whenever he moves in and around the City. The thing of it is, that algorhythm also picks up _your_ signal."

_"What?"_

"That healing thing? It's a spell of some kind. It's part of you. It's magic built into your bones or something, I don't know how that shit works, but I'd kind of like to. But our resident magical expert is even crazier than Bruce thinks he is, isn't he?" Natasha nodded slowly. "So yeah, that's out. We're working on theory at the moment."

"Wait. You and Bruce are working on this?" She furrowed her brow and didn't even bother to try to finish her oatmeal. "What are you working toward?"

"He circles you," Tony said flatly. "Ever since that time he stormed in here and locked out JARVIS so we didn't know what the hell was happening. Sometimes camera feeds pick him up, sometimes not, so I'm guessing he goes invisible or something magicky to explain why nobody can see him. But JARVIS is picking up a signal, and it's like he's connected to you. Sometimes he goes off grid, and it's like he just disappears. The signal just dies. I'm guessing it's that wacky portal thing he does."

"Walking on Yggdrasil," she mumbled, mind whirring.

"Yeah. That. Think he could carry some sensors with him next time?" Tony asked hopefully. He didn't back down even at her scathing look. "Hey, can't blame me for asking. We'd love to see the readings on that. The fundamental harmonics of his magic are fascinating enough as it is, I'm pretty sure the entire World Tree would bust a few theoretical physicists' hearts." He grinned at Natasha widely, but she didn't see the humor in that. "Look. Do you want me to give you access to our scans?" Tony asked, smile sliding off of his face. "I can install it as an app on your phone, you don't even have to do anything special. Set it as a prox alarm or as a silent notification, I don't care. But we're noting that the resonance is changing, and that can't be a good sign. If he's circling you, and there's something going even more wrong with him..."

"He's tracking some magical artifacts," she admitted slowly. "They're not on this realm and he's hiding them. But yes, they're changing him." He was getting unpredictable, but his attachment to her was still there. It was almost frightening to see him growing dependent on her for a sense of stability, when once he seemed set to kill her.

Tony blew out a breath and contemplated her. "He finds you wherever you are. Haven't you wondered about that?"

"He'd said there was a connection."

"Look, you have a supernatural stalker on your hands. Let me install the app."

Natasha nodded, not even thinking twice about it. For Tony to approach her this way meant he was truly worried about it. "Thank you. And thank Bruce for me. He's probably curled up in the corner of the lab asleep."

Laughing, Tony nodded. "Yeah, well, it was my turn for the coffee run. If you're not drinking any, I'm snagging the entire pot. I think we're close to finding a way to track the resonance changes so we can still pick up Loki on scanners."

She thought of telling him not to look into Astoria. She thought for a moment of trying to say she had a deal with Loki that should contain him on this realm. But she didn't feel equipped for that kind of conversation, and didn't want to explain her level of involvement. Instead, she pasted a smile on her face and nodded at him. "Thanks again."

"Hey, we have to stick together," Tony replied brightly. Like it or not, the Avengers had become something of a dysfunctional family. He had them, Pepper and Rhodey, and he wasn't about to lose any of them if he could do something about it.

Touching. She could only hope that it wasn't misguided affection that would get them all killed.

***

Nine rings swirled around Loki's head in a circle. How much time had passed on Yggdrasil? It spun out in different directions, and he had gone forwards in time as usual, backwards as he hated to go, then sideways and _between_ moments, fractional spaces of seconds that otherwise wouldn't exist. He was stretched thin, the carved sigils in his skin not enough protection to keep his mind safe. Natasha had coated his carvings with some kind of Midgardian ointment when she had seen them in Astoria. He had to believe she cared about him. He had to believe she got something more out of his association than simply retrieving objects or giving her information.

He had volunteered for this. She didn't even have to ask. She wouldn't have known to ask him to do this. Instead, she would have combed the reaches of Earth looking for clues regarding artifacts that had become unbound in time and space, scattered across realms and millennia; it had to be magic that had done such a thing, and he had felt the rage inherent in the rings themselves. One more to find, one amulet to find. Then he could rest. Then Natasha could cradle him to her, and perhaps he could stitch himself back together.

Loki shivered, a chill sliding beneath his skin. The sigils weren't holding. The markings and runes on his armor had long since failed, and he couldn't put power back into them. Yet he couldn't walk away from the rings. They called to him, a familiar voice in the darkness. He knew them somehow. That was why he could find them. The rings _knew_ him, recognized the power and skill he possessed. They deemed him worthy to wear them, and the pull of all nine rings was hard to resist.

But he had to. He had promised. He had _promised,_ and he was shattering. His broken promises from earlier were gnawing at him from the inside out, rendering him a hollow shell. He would only have his rage left, and he didn't want to kill Natasha. He didn't want to kill Frigga. He wasn't so sure about the rest of Creation.

With extreme effort, he pushed the nine rings back into their box and enclosed them with the dragon bones. It sapped the last of his strength, and he collapsed.

Falling through the black, Loki closed his eyes. Nausea and bile rose up from his gorge; this had happened before. He had met the Other and Thanos this way, and they were hunting for him. He had lied to them, he had lied to everyone. Lies and lies and lies, a shimmering mess he was tangled inside of. There was no way to crawl out of it without spinning more webs of lies, but no one would believe him now.

A faint pulse of familiar power was nearby. Loki reached out, _reached..._

The tenth ring.

_Natasha._

In that instant, he vanished from the space between the gaping branches of Yggdrasil.

But he had already been seen.

***

There was nothing left on the tundra; even the forest had died a slow and torturous death. The sun above had gone out, its essence drawn out of it in a powerful spell that Amora nearly hadn't been able to pull off. More death followed in her wake as she looked for more life forces to drain and refuel her. Skrall was silent, eyes large in his head. He would never leave her, but she knew he didn't approve of what she was doing. She didn't need his approval, didn't care if she had it or not. While drawing out power from the dimension around her, Amora had sensed one of her lost rings. It was easily noticeable; the ring carried the essence of air, and there was none left on most of this forsaken realm.

And even worse, Loki was holding it.

Instead of swallowing the heart of the star she had destroyed, Amora pushed aside her exhaustion to twist its essence into lengths of chain. She would rain devastation on his head, gouge out his eyes, twist his entrails around his body and dance around his corpse. She would sever his head once his body cooled, and send his lying tongue back to his damned parents as a warning not to fuck with her.

Skrall wisely remained silent as she poured her rage and power into the lengths of chain, binding them over and over and over again, the lock built to be its perfect mate. The key was shimmering gold, the last light of the star dying above their heads. Without the light, the lock would remain sealed forever. She laughed at the thought of Loki bound for all eternity, weighted down by the very thing that could repulse his magic. Perhaps she wouldn't kill him after all. She could still send his tongue. He wouldn't need that, and he could scream just as well without it. The begging for mercy might even be sweeter with the gurgle of his blood in his mouth and the rasping from his throat. No more lies dripping from his tongue like venom. Instead, the pure screams of agony and defeat, no escape and no hope for his future.

Yes, that would be the perfect place to plot her revenge. His mind would break, and that would shatter the resolve of the royal family. Perhaps they would even call off the guards and surrender without a fight. Amora would still slaughter them all, torturing them slowly, mocking their pain with perfect joy.

"We'll follow Loki. Whatever realm he chooses to hide himself, we will find him and he will pay for all that he's done to me." Amora could hear his whispered jibes, the mockery in his voice, the stinging barbs of his insults. His lips curled in scorn at her skills, but she had grown so much since then. She had sought out skilled teachers, seduced better ones, and walked the entire length of Yggdrasil. Despite the fearsome warnings, Amora had done it by herself, walking backward in time, enduring millennia on different dimensions.

Hatred was her anchor, and she was about to destroy one of its targets.

Pointing to the horizon, Skrall frowned deeply. "There are a few survivors here, Enchantress."

Amora grinned, a feral and frightening thing to behold. "Good. I have need of them."

Before he could reply to her, she reached out and _pulled,_ drawing them closer. They cowered in fear, whetting her appetite. She raised her hand just as Skrall said "They will die without the sun, Enchantress. All things here will die then."

"No. All things here will die _now."_

Amora absorbed the life energies of the survivors on this world, and drew in the last remnants of magic and life that she could feel elsewhere. "I will find my rings and my amulet, and then I will raze Asgard to the ground. No one can stop me. They haven't the magical skills in all of the realms to stop me."

Skrall stared the heaps of bodies, fear coiling inside of him. Too late to turn back now.

***

Loki crashed into the wall of the common room at Avengers Tower, tumbling from the ceiling down to the floor. He was a bloodied mess, gaunt and ready to fall apart. He wished that the others would not have seen him, but there was no way to help that now. He had reached for Natasha, hoping he would be able to transport back to their prearranged time and place. It was ingrained in his bones, an anchor to hold onto when he traveled too far from the trunk of the World Tree. But his control had slipped long before that, and he had no way to actually direct his travel before arriving back in Midgard.

Someone had suggested a movie in the common room, and Steve, Bruce and Clint were present at the time. He couldn't see Natasha, but his left eye was swollen shut and he could barely get his arms under him. Loki wasn't sure if he could even stand. Clint took that option away from him, however, lifting him to his feet. "What the hell happened?"

"Not Hel," Loki croaked, his good eye sliding shut.

"Is something chasing you?" Steve asked, brows furrowing in thought. Loki remembered Clint's description of him when the archer was under his control. The good man, the soldier, the friend that wouldn't leave fallen comrades behind. Of course he would worry about repercussions to Loki's sudden arrival.

Bruce saw the clenched fist. "You're holding something." His touch was actually delicate and soothing. Perhaps Loki should stop thinking of him as a beast.

The tenth ring tumbled out of his numbed palm, and all of its energy with it. His body crumpled and sagged, Clint's strength the only thing holding him up. He dimly heard Clint's grunt and Steve running and shouting for Natasha. Consciousness left him.

When he came to, he was lying on a padded table in the middle of a laboratory of some kind. His armor and undergarments had been removed, and the only thing addressing his modesty was a sheet pulled up to his chest. Loki's eyes snapped open, and he gazed around the room with building panic. This was Tony Stark's lab, and he was vulnerable—

"Sir," a disembodied voice announced. "Loki has woken."

Loki tried not to hyperventilate and appear cool and collected. He rather thought he failed when he saw Tony's head pop up on the other side of a wall of computers. "Natasha will be right back," Tony announced. He turned and called over his shoulder. "Harmonics are still stable, so it's not being passed out that did it."

"Where is the ring?" Loki rasped, pushing himself to a seated position. By the Roots, he was so laughably weak.

Bruce stepped around a series of glass screens and computers. "I have it." He looked over at Tony. "I think this is what altered the signal."

"Give me the ring." His voice was hoarse, as if he had been screaming, but that couldn't be helped. He had to get that ring and get out of the building, back to one of his haunts. He had to heal, and he couldn't appear weak. Then they _all_ would know he was a failure...

"No, don't," Natasha said, coming back into the room. She had a mug full of tea, the paper tag on the teabag still hanging over its side. Loki stared at her in casual dress, a plain T shirt and jeans, slippers on her feet. She didn't look like the dangerous assassin that she was.

Startled, he accepted the mug of tea from her. "It's mine," he rasped. "I need it to find the amulet for you."

"No, you need to sleep and heal. It was more than just cuts this time," Natasha said, her tone forceful. He immediately wanted to bend to her will, follow her direction and curl up under her gaze. She would care for him. She would take control, and he wouldn't have to think. It wouldn't have to hurt so much. Everything would go away.

But he couldn't do that. And especially not _here._

"No time. I was sensed as I fell."

"Who was it?" Bruce asked, frowning. He still held the ring in his hand, but he hadn't worn it. Loki wondered if that kept him safe. "Is it the Other? The Chitauri?"

"No, I don't think so," Loki said, managing to suppress a shudder. "It was different."

"How much time do we have before you're traced back here?" Tony asked.

"I have plans at work. I have to leave," Loki replied, avoiding his question. He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know... _Failure._ He was an abject, irredeemable failure, and he had nothing behind his bluff. He was empty. A shell of a sorcerer, but he couldn't let them see that. If they did, they would mock. Loki would rather die than be subject to ridicule again. Let them fear him. Let them worship him.

"You couldn't even stand before," Bruce interrupted.

Loki held his hand outstretched. The ring wouldn't snap into place on his palm. He was empty, stripped clean, magic lost. He had nothing left, but he refused to back down. He couldn't. That simply wasn't part of who he was.

"Drink the tea," Natasha commanded, hand on his shoulder. "You have time for that."

"The harmonics change the closer you get to him with that thing," Tony called out as Bruce stepped closer with the ring. _"That's_ what's changing the signature."

The words made no sense to Loki, but he behaved as though they did. All he could feel was a chill creeping into his skin. Empty, empty, empty. Nothing left. He had _nothing._

As Bruce came closer, the universe seemed to tilt. Natasha caught the mug as it fell from his hand, tea spilling everywhere. The floor seemed to rise up to meet his face as consciousness fled from him again.

The next time he woke, Loki was in a small bedroom. The walls were painted cream, with a slight texture to them, and the ceiling was stark white. There were no windows, and the bed he was on had a simple black frame, crisp white sheets and duvet, and there was the faint scent of lavender all around him. Plain clothes were on a white dresser opposite the bed, and a touch lamp on the night stand beside him was on the dimmest setting. Gingerly pushing himself up to a seated position, Loki could see that most of the cuts and bruises had healed. The deeper gouges into his flesh remained, though they were shallower than he remembered making them. His heart didn't beat so erratically in his chest, and the hollow, aching feeling was gone.

Dressing quickly in the unfamiliar clothes, he left the room and began to walk down the hallway. He was still in Avengers Tower, though he had no idea where he was going and he was loath to open a portal when he felt so out of sorts. It might take him somewhere other than intended, or he could drop once more into the cold reaches of _between_ without a way back.

Steve found him. "We're all having dinner in the kitchen."

Loki paused in front of the soldier. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Almost two days. Natasha got a little chicken broth into you here and there."

His heart sang in his chest though his expression didn't flicker. "What of the others?"

"You don't pull any nonsense, we don't kill you today."

He could hear the sincerity in Steve's voice and allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "It depends on what you consider nonsense, Captain."

"Don't worry, we'll all let you know."

Steve led him through the maze of hallways until he came upon the large kitchen and dining area, which had large windows overlooking Midtown. Something in him ached at the sight of the others all sitting together with easy camaraderie, and the view from the window was beautiful. He was reminded of the hotel Natasha had found for him, crisp lines, plush comfort and a view of Midtown looking peaceful despite the hustle and bustle down below at street level. Natasha looked up as Loki walked into the kitchen, and eyed the empty place at the table next to her. It was opposite all of the others, as if he was facing a panel of judges.

No, thank you. "I'll stand," he said somewhat stiffly.

"You're still about ready to fall over," Tony declared, looking at some gadget in Bruce's hands. He ignored Bruce's glare at him and pointed over at the empty seat. "I don't know about you, Horns, but you probably want to eat something after being nearly comatose for two days."

He was in enemy territory. He had tried to kill these people, perhaps not directly for all of them, but certainly for some. They had no cause to be kind, and he distrusted this deeply.

With a sigh, Natasha stood and pushed a bowl of plain rice into his hands. "Can you use chopsticks or should I get you a fork?" When he stared at her blankly, she shoved a spoon into the bowl. "Use that."

Clint may have snickered beneath his cough, and Loki scowled at him.

"Where is the ring?" Loki demanded. He was glad he sounded somewhat more like himself, rather than raspy and weak. One ring on this world, nine locked against Yggdrasil, and the amulet was somewhere lost in time. He had to get them before Natasha was tempted to try to find them herself. He wouldn't allow her to subject herself to this kind of pain, and he chose not to interpret that desire.

"Under lock and key," Bruce announced, voice placid. But he was the monster, the one full of rage as fierce as his own. Like called to like. Loki admired and feared and loathed Bruce's monster all at once. The monster should have been able to kill them all. Instead, he sat in their midst calmly, accepted.

Loki didn't understand it, and anger came on the heels of his confusion.

"You cannot wield it."

"All SHIELD knows is that I have an outside contractor tracking down magical artifacts that the Ten Rings and Hydra might be interested in," Natasha announced. "They don't know who it is or what makes them so dangerous." She nodded at the bowl of rice in his hands. "Eat," she said, using her commanding tone. Her gaze was level, no hint of pity or concern in her eyes.

 _You're not here to be coddled,_ she had told him over and over again. _You do as I say, or you can leave. Those are your options. Choose wisely._

Loki could barely breathe at the moment, and made sure to hold the bowl steady in his hands so the others wouldn't think him weak or helpless. _You can tell me anything._ He wanted to tell her that she was in danger, that he couldn't control himself. That she would drown in her river of blood if she tried to contain him for too much longer. That he wanted and needed her attention, but could not risk her further. If the rings were this dangerous, having them as well as the amulet could very well be deadly. He could not expose her to risk, _could not._

But he couldn't say the words out loud when he didn't understand the impulse himself. "You cannot wield the rings. They were not meant for mortal hands."

"And based on your reaction to the One Ring so far," Tony interjected, "they're not meant for your hands, either."

There was no scorn in his voice, but Loki reacted as if there was. His eyes narrowed, and he tensed slightly. "Their magic is Asgardian in nature."

In saying that out loud, he knew that he had just narrowed down the field of potential sorcerers who could create such a thing. Too few had that kind of craftsmanship or skill, too few could enchant such ordinary stones into things of terrible magic.

The signature was familiar, but not Karmilla's or Frigga's, and the way to Asgard was barred to him. To tempt entry would be his doom.

"Well, they're sure as hell not yours," Tony said, watching him closely. His gaze itched.

Loki shoved the bowl back at Natasha, untouched. "I thank you for your hospitality," he said stiffly. He wasn't sure if he could pull off a good portal, but he wasn't about to show weakness or doubt in front of these mortals. Clint was watching too uncomfortably closely, and Steve had remained standing near the knife block. Bruce had his gadget but could become a formidable weapon at any time. Tony merely had to summon his suit of iron.

Natasha was his domme. She knew he was weak, but they were outside of play here. Loki could not show weakness in this setting. It wasn't allowed. It wasn't right.

His skin crawled, his insides twisting and roiling. Fear and doubt and ferocious, terrible _rage_ that was starting to rise out of his control. He could kill them all if he wanted to, raze this entire tower. He could destroy all of Manhattan. He very nearly did once, when he had an army at his command.

But at his back had been Thanos at the time, and right now he had _no one._

"I want my ring."

"You can't have it," Tony said as Natasha opened her mouth.

"Then I'll get the others and take it back," Loki replied smoothly, as if he had been ready to make a threat like that for some time. Pulling his tattered pride and remnants of his magic together, he managed to make a portal to one of his hiding places. Natasha surely remembered it well. There was no change in her expression as he stepped backward, out of her reach.

Whatever the others had to say was cut off when his portal closed. He collapsed, curling into the piles of furs he had obtained. Screaming in agony, Loki kept going until he lost his voice.

And perhaps his mind along with it.

***

Amora touched down on Earth with Skrall but was disoriented. She wasn't where Loki was; she had lost her sense of him as she had entered Midgard. She had been to Midgard once before, long ago, on a trip with other sorcerers in training. It had been far emptier then, with so much raw materials that it had been easy to learn the rudiments of magic. She hadn't been back since, but apparently Loki lived here. His connection to Midgard was strong and sure, easy to make. He had landed somewhere close to her current location, but it hadn't been near the mountains. There were stones everywhere, and Skrall looked as though he could blend in with the rock formations nearby. She directed him to hide in the foliage, ignoring his glower, and started walking toward the sound of mortal voices.

She saw signs for the Natural Stone Bridge and Caves, which made no sense at all. Why was this so important? It was nothing but rock and greenery. Frowning, she continued walking toward the voices. Five mortals were up ahead, chattering excitedly about some pictures they had taken while in the caverns. Phrases like "natural stone steps" and "beautiful waterfall" made no sense to her. Apparently there were also adventure tours in summer; the young male was disappointed that they had arrived too late to go, while the older woman obviously related to him was pleased she didn't have to go crawling around in the dirt and stones.

Somewhat at a loss, Amora asked the people she found if they knew Loki. The boy recognized the name as "the dude that nearly blew up New York City, right?" The phrasing made no sense to her, so Amora continued walking toward the park's entrance. Each knot of people she met, Amora asked after Loki. Most didn't know him, but some recognized the name from the Battle of New York. Some recognized the name from Norse mythology. When she feigned interest, those talked about what they knew. It didn't sound like the Loki she had known and hated.

It was easy to bend mortal minds to her will. Several deep caverns existed deep within the Adirondacks, and not all of them were open to the public. She seized control of one of the park guides, and directed him back toward Skrall. The guide took them deep within the caverns, until they reached an area even he didn't know about. Most of the cavern walls had been worn smooth by an underground river. It truly did look beautiful, but Amora didn't care about its beauty. It didn't look craggy or imposing enough to be a cavern she could use to exact her revenge, but a little crafting and magic could change that.

She smiled sweetly at the guide. "You can do something else for me."

Amora conjured an athame and goblet. Nodding at Skrall to pull the guide's head back, she slit his throat while chanting, catching his blood in the goblet. When it was full, she stepped away and Skrall let go of the dead guide. She continued her chanting until the blood bubbled in the goblet, then she drank it quickly. The guide's blood continued to flow, and it followed magical lines around Amora, whose eyes had blacked over entirely, veins also turning black. The spell from Nightmare gave her sight into the exact location of the Essine Ruby.

"I see my amulet!" she said, her voice unnatural in her throat. It reverberated in the cavern, sending shivers down Skrall's spine. "I shall return with it."

Stepping sideways and _between,_ Amora grasped the ruby from around the throat of a demon princess; when the chit protested, Amora stabbed her with the athame and returned to the cavern where Skrall waited with the rapidly cooling body of the guide. He said nothing when she put the ruby on, her eyes fading back to normal and veins losing their blackened appearance. "I have my amulet," she said in her normal voice, pleased. "Now to find my rings."

Skrall looked down at the dead body. "And this?"

Lifting the athame, Amora gave him a sharp, edged smile. "I have uses for him still. This is as good a place as any to return to. I'll find Loki, and he will rue the day he crossed me."

She gutted the corpse and pulled the entrails out to perform anthropomancy. When satisfied, she took the lengths of entrails and began to drag them from the corpse. With a wave of her hand, a portal opened to the dead wasteland they had left behind. "Go get the chains," she told Skrall. "I have some redecorating to do."

He hurried to obey, which pleased her. Revenge was close at hand.

***

Natasha met with Sitwell, her insides roiling with worry. "I've had contact with the outside contractor," she began. He nodded at her, bland expression revealing nothing. "He possesses nine of the ten rings of power he identified. They are apparently warping his personality and magic."

Now Sitwell frowned in concern. "What does this mean for us long term?"

"I'm not sure. He wasn't stable to start with, and the change seems to have introduced fragility." She didn't want to reveal that she was Loki's anchor, the one force that seemed capable of preserving his sanity as well as rein him in if he went too far. "I can't predict responses."

"Is this putting you in danger? Or any of our interests?"

"The rings aren't in the hands of AIM or Hydra magicians, so in that case, no, it's not harming any of our interests."

Sitwell contemplated that. "What of the tenth ring or the amulet?"

She didn't want to explain that Bruce and Tony were studying the tenth ring and keeping it from Loki. Plausible deniability would only go so far, however, and sooner or later she would have to decide which priority meant more – SHIELD or the Avengers. For the moment, there was no conflict. "He doesn't have them. He did indicate the desire to obtain them."

"And what will he do with them once he has them all?"

"Right now, they're locked away and he isn't using them. I don't know if there's a long term endgame for them."

"Do you have access to the rings?"

"No."

"Can you get them?"

"No."

Sitwell scowled at her. "Yet you sit there calmly—"

"They're encased in dragon bones on an alternate dimension."

That shut him down effectively for the moment. "So he tells you."

"That is one thing he won't lie to me about."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The nature of the association," Natasha replied shortly. Let him wonder. She had no intention of telling him anything about said association; as much as she was a skillful liar, some things weren't necessary to be discussed or lied about.

But didn't leap on the comment just then. Likely he would at a later time. "Be that as it may, we don't have those artifacts in our custody. That is dangerous."

"The associate has declared they're not human in origin. It's unlikely we have any containment protocols in the Sandbox strong enough to contain the rings safely."

"Even if we got dragon bones?"

"One thing I've learned from my contact with magic users is that casting spells is far more complicated than they make it sound."

"Meaning?" Sitwell prompted when she didn't continue.

"Dragon bones are one component of the containment. If I had to guess, there are layered spells or herbs or oils, some kind of circle and arcane chanting involved to cast the spell. Not only that, the location of the container will matter, and there may be some kind of cloaking spell to hide their existence." Natasha shrugged at his incredulous look. "I've picked up a few things along the way. I couldn't cast anything or be able to name spells, but I do recognize some commonalities in _how_ they're cast."

"We need to ensure these artifacts aren't used against us."

"Understood."

Natasha _did_ understand, too. Loki couldn't use the rings to take down Midgard or try to attack it again. She was keeping him contained, though. She had to trust in that. What else could explain Tony's comment that Loki was constantly circling her? Why else would he say he would raze Helheim to get her back if she died? Why else continue with their association at all?

"What would be even better is if we could hold these artifacts. I'm sure there are plenty of students at the Academy that could learn magic. According to Dr. Foster, their magic is akin to our science. Students from our Science Department may be able to learn it."

"I couldn't say," Natasha replied, managing to keep her irritation from becoming evident. Dealing with Sitwell was starting to wear on her, a barb beneath her skin she couldn't excise without doing more damage than was worth it right now. "As I've said, I don't actually know what spells are being used. I can just recognize that _something_ is happening."

Sitwell wasn't pleased by that response, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't know any magic either. "Could your contact teach any of our students?"

Natasha paused, considering that. While she was rattled by Sitwell's presence, he did have a very good point. Loki craved recognition, wanted to be seen as powerful and a regal figure. If he could be a teacher, that would give him an elevated position. "I'd have to ask if he's willing. But it may appeal to him."

He gave her a thin smile. "So we have a plan."

She doubted it would work in his favor, but returned the smile anyway. "We'll see how it goes, then. Shall I file a report for Director Fury?"

"No, I'll take care of it."

Natasha hated that, but kept her mouth shut. She would much rather report directly, as she had done earlier. Perhaps she would have to schedule a meeting time. For now, she had to be content with the system and trust that it worked.

***

Bruce and Tony had run many tests on the ring, and got comments from Jane Foster via Skype. She was in an observatory in Alaska now, hoping to create smaller yet just as stable versions of the Einstein-Rosen bridge to travel on. They were all about radiation outputs and means to track its signal, which Natasha didn't even try to follow. "Have you been affected by its power at all?" she asked them, eyebrow raised. "Without trying to wearing it, of course."

"Probably not," Bruce assured her. "JARVIS would say something if we were changing."

"Behavior patterns remain within acceptable parameters for normal, Miss Romanoff," JARVIS informed her. "There has been ample sampling prior to the acquisition of the ring, so predictive algorhythms should hold."

"That's comforting," Natasha replied, meaning it.

As Tony was about to say something, an alarm sounded. She could feel the static of magic along her skin, and she turned in the direction of its presence. It was the shimmer of a portal opening, and she snapped "Lock up the ring," as she faced the portal.

"You wound me," Loki said as he stepped through, wearing his full battle armor of braided and warded leather and gold.

"The rings are changing you."

"Better than _you_ changing," he snapped.

Natasha was sure Bruce and Tony would be all ears for this exchange, and would prefer not to have it here. Since Loki wouldn't move at a quiet request, she would have to stand her ground. "No, it's not better. I'm not a caster. _You_ are. You could teach others, probably, if those rings don't change your ability. If you're not _you,"_ she began.

"I can track the amulet with the power of that ring," he interrupted. "You want it away from mortal casters, do you not?"

"There has to be another way."

"I will not risk you."

She could hear the thread of desperation in his voice and hoped that the other two couldn't. "I'm not at risk with this. You are."

Loki gave her a smile, sadness and desperate mania mixed together. "Touching. Sentimental. I would hardly recognize you, _little spider."_

Oh, he was _angry,_ and didn't want the others to know why he was so angry. He still had his pride, even as she was digging into it with her implications that he was not as powerful as he claimed to be. There was no good way out of this, no graceful exit she could give him.

So she played dirty. Using her domme tone, Natasha commanded him "You will _not_ use that ring to find the amulet. You'll find another way."

His lips stretched wide, a slash of mouth exposing sharp teeth. She had visions of his teeth coming down to rip out her throat, but pushed aside the visceral fear she felt at the sight of him just then. _I am in control,_ she thought, hoping she wasn't lying to herself.

Bruce was holding the ring. Tony was trying to pry it out of Bruce's fist, but he couldn't move any of the fingers. Tony flashed Natasha a worried look, and was about to speak when Loki flicked his fingers, sending Tony flying backward toward the wall. "I'd like my ring back now," Loki said to Bruce, holding out his hand. When Natasha cried out and stepped forward, Loki flicked her backward as he had Tony.

Once he had the ring, he vanished.

Natasha and Tony staggered to their feet, trading grim expressions. Bruce had a dazed look on his face, blinking fiercely. "What just happened?"

"Track Loki and track him _now,"_ Natasha barked. "Widen the search parameter as far as you can without draining too much power to the building. I'm going after Loki."

"Not alone, you're not," Tony said, lips settling into a grim line. "This is an Avengers thing," he continued when Natasha would have protested. "He came into _my_ home, assaulted me and my friends, did another mind whammy, and made off with my shiny new toy. You don't get to track the lunatic down alone."

Giving him a faint smile, Natasha nodded. "Fine. My op. I'll lead the way."

***  
***


	6. Cuts Like A Knife

While Bruce and Tony started expanding their search parameters and area, JARVIS helped to patch Natasha through to a direct line to Director Fury. Sitwell might get angry at being bypassed, but Natasha really had no interest in dealing with him at the moment. "Please tell me there's an actual reason why you're calling me and interrupting a meeting with a Priority Alpha call, Stark?" he boomed.

"It's not Stark," Natasha replied shortly. "I commandeered his equipment to reach you. The associate I have been using made contact. He's got the tenth ring and is looking for the amulet. The problem is, he's completely unhinged."

Fury was actually silent for a moment, processing that. It was one thing for Natasha to advise caution, another to call Loki unhinged. "What has he done?" he asked.

"Sitwell briefed you earlier?" She got Fury's assent, which actually helped assuage some of her misgivings about Sitwell. "The biggest problem is the nature of the magic inherent in those rings. They're not human in origin, and could possibly be Asgardian. They're destabilizing him further, and that means containment will be problematic."

"Problematic is not impossible," Fury observed. "Why are you calling?"

"It's an Avengers issue," Natasha told him flatly. "I need a Quinjet to transport us all to try to contain him."

"Got him!" Tony crowed in the background, making a fist pump.

"Uh, Tony..." Bruce began, just as Tony noticed whatever he was pointing at.

"Uh-oh," Tony said, face falling.

Natasha immediately turned to face him, ignoring Fury for a moment. "Uh-oh?" she echoed in disbelief. "What the hell do you mean by uh-oh?"

"He's not alone. There's another signature there, and its readings are closer to the rings than he is. So whoever's there is probably the one that made them," Tony said, looking up. Bruce was nodding as he took off his glasses.

"Did you hear that?" Natasha asked Fury, directing her attention back toward him, effectively cutting off his rant about using SHIELD resources for missions that were not related to SHIELD. She was going to hear about this later, she was sure.

"I heard it. So what does that mean?"

"It means we likely have a rogue Asgardian on our hands. Given some of the comments he made while in possession of one of the rings before, this rogue wants to destroy Asgard. I'm fairly sure they won't give a damn about who they stomp on in the process," she added, cutting off any potential _Why should we care?_ arguments he or the World Council would likely make.

"Thor has actually been checking in with us fairly regularly," Fury said with a grudging note in his voice. "He's not the one here, since he's been on some other realm for a while." That explained his absence, then. "So it's an unauthorized entry into our space. We have clearance to do whatever is necessary to contain it and protect our realm according to the treaty we signed with Odin."

"Good to know."

"Get the jet and go stop an interdimensional incident from occurring," Fury snapped.

Natasha hung up and looked over at Tony and Bruce. "Got the coordinates?" At their nod, she nodded as well. "Suit up. I'll go get Steve and Clint. Time to go."

***

Loki regretted striking Natasha, but she really left him no choice. She would understand, surely, and take it out on him later in session. Some part of him looked forward to that, finding it a delicious future. It assuaged some of the guilt he felt; she was looking out for him the only way she knew how, and was genuinely concerned that the rings were harming him. Of course they were, but it was an acceptable risk. He could control it. He _could._ Loki knew he wasn't as feeble as she feared him to be. She was thinking in human terms, and he was no human. There were no men like him, and she could only compare him to fragile beings that she knew. Then again, Coulson had died by his hand. His name was on Loki's list, and he had been on that bus with his agents, very much alive and unflappable as ever.

_You lack conviction. And that's why you'll lose._

No, no, no. He would not lose. He _could not_ lose.

The ring on his finger was unpleasantly warm, an itch upon his skin. Its stone was onyx, shined to a mirror polish despite being clutched in Bruce's hand and handled by who knew how many people since its creation. Loki didn't like how it felt on his hand, which likely meant that yes, it was trying to change who he was and what he believed in. With this ring, he could strike his domme out of turn and dream of burning Asgard to the ground. He could pull his heart from his chest without a second thought if it would bring him to his goals.

Power flooded through him, though. He felt as though he knew all the secrets of Yggdrasil, no underhanded tricks necessary. Knowledge was sometimes subtle, sometimes clear, and he knew it all now. Finding the amulet was child's play, and it was on this planet. It wasn't even that far away, only a few hundred miles from New York City. He could grab it and return to Natasha's side, proving to her that he could handle its power. She wouldn't have to fear for him any longer. She shouldn't have to fear for him; she should have been fearful of him. That was the way it worked. He was a fearsome god, he had the power, she was the one working to obey his whims and give him what he craved.

No, that didn't sound right. Did it?

His thoughts were tangled, and there was just the clear thrumming _need_ for the amulet ringing clear and true. Once he got the amulet, then he would feel complete. It was all going to make sense then, no need to fall under the spell of his own doubt.

Stepping _between_ brought him out of Avengers Tower and into the middle of the mountains in upstate New York. There were trees and stones, signage indicating that it was a park of some kind, with hours for guided tours and options for self guided tours. Expanding his senses told him that the amulet was inside the mountain, perhaps inside of the cavern system that was the park's claim to fame.

He strode forward, battle armor at the ready. Some people may have recognized him, skittering away from his progress with panicked features. Others scowled at the interruption yet kept their distance, and that gave him a measure of satisfaction. Obviously he still had enough presence that others could sense his power. Natasha's fears were for naught.

Loki followed the twisting channels and tunnels, moving deeper and deeper into the cavern system. He wasn't willing to open a portal closer without knowing where it would end up. For all he knew, the amulet was trapped inside stone, having been buried there thousands of years before. Perhaps the rings he held before simply didn't resonate well enough with the amulet's energies. Perhaps he simply hadn't been ready to find it. While he was only wearing one of the ten rings, he could still feel the power of the other rings through Yggdrasil. The dragon bones kept them safely contained, and no one else could feel them.

Walking around a blind corner, Loki saw a creature that looked like walking stone with a loincloth and a vision of blonde hair and green clothing. She seemed vaguely familiar, but he didn't understand why at first. It had been hundreds of mortal years since he had seen her, and she had been all puffy-eyed with tears and frustrated rage at his jibes.

Amora stood beside the creature that looked like a golem, a bubbling cauldron in front of them. She stirred it with a cold iron stick that apparently dissolved in its contents. Dipping in a small black bowl, Amora lifted out a small amount to look at more closely. "Excellent," she told the golem with a cold smile. Loki didn't remember her looking like that before. The past few hundred years had apparently changed her dramatically.

But his eyes were focused on her chest; not because of her ample bosom, but because of the amulet containing a large ruby lying on it.

A wide smile on his face, Loki strode forward, footsteps ringing loudly on the rough stone floor of the cavern. "So good of you to collect that for me," he purred, gesturing toward the ruby amulet on her chest. "I'll take that now."

Her eyes took in his battle armor, his confident stance, his grin, the ring on his finger. They narrowed at the sight of the ring. "My ring," she said, her voice low and far more dangerous than it had ever been before. "You're the one that stole it."

"Hardly. It was simply floating in space. My ring now."

She dropped the bowl, and its contents sloshed when it tipped over and fell off the raised platform she was using as a table. It hissed upon contact with the stone floor, and there was a small puff of smoke as the stone dissolved.

Loki didn't even have time to worry about that detail. Amora didn't look entirely sane. He was aware of that expression; he had seen it on his own face recently, and when he had been feeling his most desperate before. She had been banished from Asgard as well. Kindred spirits, after a fashion, though he still thought of her as a silly girl playing at being an enchanter. Karmilla all but declared her unteachable. How much magic could she possess?

As it turned out, plenty.

***

Natasha managed to touch down the Quinjet at Bennett's Airport, which was small and the closest to Loki's whereabouts. Staff members at the airport were in awe of the jet, as it was easily the largest aircraft present. Most of the time only local pilots used the airport; the longest of the two runways was only five thousand feet long. When staff members realized who was on the jet, cameraphones were whipped out and whispers began. Bruce and Tony led the way toward the location on his tracking device, Natasha, Steve and Clint following behind. No one had much to say, not really sure what they would find once they reached Loki. Could he even be reasoned with any longer?

To their surprise, the signal brought them to a park in Pottersville, NY. Some of the visitors were already talking about Loki's entrance and how there have been some missing staff members and guests over the past two weeks. Pottersville was small, so it had been assumed that perhaps there were runaways in that tally or they had gotten injured in the part of the cavern system that visitors generally weren't allowed to enter outside of summer months. Search and rescue teams mounted hadn't found any evidence of the missing people.

Tension was high as they made their way into the cavern system, park staff wisely choosing to send any stragglers in the park home. While there had been several public outings of the Avengers since the Battle of New York that didn't lead to property damage and injuries, no one wanted to take any chances here.

"How bad do you think he is?" Clint asked Natasha, finally asking the question that had been on his mind since he had put on his uniform and snagged his bow. She was sure that some part of him wanted to shoot a few arrows into Loki's skull for all he had done, just as some part of her would fantasize about using his eye sockets as target practice. That wouldn't help balance her ledger, however, and Thor did still consider him a brother. It wouldn't do to lose his friendship just because Loki was unstable.

"Depends on whether he's wearing just the one ring he took from Bruce or if he stopped off to get the other nine."

"I will preemptively state that I will keep Lord of the Rings jokes to a minimum," Tony piped up, his voice a little tinny through the Iron Man helmet.

"A move we definitely appreciate," Steve replied.

"Although we do have a Legolas and an Aragorn," he added, thumbing in Clint and Natasha's direction. "I mean, _swords?_ I suppose it fits with the sorcery aspect..."

"Just shut up and follow the signal," Bruce said, looking a little uneasy. "I don't like the thought of being in a cavern any longer than necessary."

Natasha could feel the presence of magic, faint and indistinct. She kept her grip on Loki's twin swords tight in her hand and followed without a word. They were close, yet she had the feeling that it wouldn't be easy to find Loki at all. "Something's here," she murmured, looking around her. The walls didn't look any different in this cavern than in all the others.

"What is it?" Tony asked, all snark gone.

She shook her head and wondered if there was such a thing as being _too_ paranoid. No, probably not in her line of work. "I don't know," she said finally. "A sense that something is strange around here. I wouldn't be surprised if there are some kind of wards set up."

"There _are_ overlapping signals that I'm picking up," Bruce offered, indicating the monitor he was looking at. "One of them is clearly Loki from the tower, one of them is the ring. I'm getting four others. I was assuming they were other artifacts he's been hiding."

Shaking her head, Natasha went ahead to look at what he was pointing at. It was still gibberish to her, but she took his word for it. "He wouldn't hide rings here. And he has all ten now."

"So something else is waiting for us," Clint said, lips pressed flat. He had his bow in hand, and he nodded in the direction they were walking. "Let's go see who it is."

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment and tried to feel for the tug of magic. It wasn't Loki's, she could somehow tell that much. She had been around his casting long enough to recognize the feel of it, and didn't want to contemplate how comfortable that feel was. There was time enough for that later, if she still cared to think of it. This other sensation of magic was distinctly different, but similar in style. It brought to mind the explanation that Loki had given Fitz and Simmons on Coulson's bus. Describing a magical signature was exactly like trying to describe a piece of music, she decided. Loki had been accurate with that description. He certainly had a way with words, possibly because of his facility with manipulating others with nuance in language and playing off of their expectations.

"What is it?" Clint asked, realizing she was pausing for a reason.

"I can feel magic. I have no idea what it means, but I can feel _something_ there, almost like a breeze." She opened her eyes and pointed through the granite wall they were walking beside. "This way."

"That's a wall," Steve commented. "We'll have to go around it."

On a hunch, Natasha stepped forward and put her hand to the wall. It went right through.

"Or maybe we go right through it," Steve said with a shrug.

"I hate magic," Clint grumbled.

Bruce sighed and did something with the machine in his hands. "All right. I'll take these illusion things into account. Let's see if we can find these artifacts and get the hell out of here."

The group walked through the wall, sure that it sounded easier than it was going to be.

***

Loki was suspended upside down, all of his fingers broken. He had refused to scream or beg for mercy, and grit his teeth tight. Who knew Amora had that kind of repertoire in her? He hadn't been prepared for the angry onslaught of her temper, so he had been caught in the midst of a maelstrom of wind and flame. He put out the fires easily enough with application of additional wind, but she had been prepared for that. His specialties were more air magicks and illusion, but she had gone for fire and heat spells. The heat that seared him brought him to his knees, and for an impossible moment he thought of falling through the abyss of space, of Thanos and the Other, the fires he had been suspended over until the remnants of his tattered mind had shredded completely. Thanos had thought it amusing, then rebuilt him in his prior image. Loki didn't automatically turn into his Jotun form with extreme cold anymore, but he was still susceptible to extreme heat like any Jotunn. Amora didn't know that, but that didn't stop her from applying more heat and pressure.

Once he was incapacitated, it was short work for her to immobilize him and take the ring from his hand. Breaking his fingers was done out of spite, and her laughter was chilling.

This was the version of him that Natasha was afraid he was becoming.

He thought he understood now, but of course it was far too late. Why would she ever come for him? She couldn't find him anyway, and there was no way for him to make it up to her. That damned ledger he carried was overflowing with debts he could never repay. Why even try, when all he could do was fail?

Amora slipped the ring onto her finger, sighing contentedly when it resized itself to fit her smaller and more delicate hand. "Where are my other rings?" she asked, voice light and pleasant as if she was asking after his health.

"I don't have them," Loki lied.

With a flick of her fingers, his broken bones reset. He yelped at the sudden, piercing pain. It had been unexpected, and he hadn't been able to prepare for that. He had honestly thought she would try another fireball.

Her eyes glittered with malice. "I will enjoy this, Odinson," she snarled. "I will strip the skin from your flesh and your flesh from your bones. You will beg me for release, and you will not have it. That will only be the beginning."

_You will wish for something as sweet as pain._

Loki closed his eyes and managed not to shudder. No, this could not be. It could not.

He grit his teeth tight when her athame came down to his throat. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was at eye level with the amulet. The ruby twinkled and sparkled unnaturally, appearing as though an entire universe was stored within it.

Dr. Stephen Strange had disappeared a year ago after tracking down this amulet. No one believed he was dead, and no one knew what had happened to him. His magical signature simply vanished, never to be seen again.

Loki was fairly certain he knew what had happened.

Amora would never let a mortal mage out of the trap, if it was indeed a trap. She might try to harness his powers, and Loki could not allow that. She was dangerous enough as it was, and he was not equipped to fight her this way. She had obviously worked on her attack spells and enough defensive spells to keep her physical self safe. She had her minion to take care of physical attacks. Loki had no such defenses to call upon.

But he was a manipulative bastard with nothing left to lose.

A twitch of his fingers undid the clasp around her neck. As the amulet fell, he whisked it to the opposite side of the cavern and layered it with invisibility and cloaking spells. She wouldn't be able to track it down or see it, and would think it was destroyed or under his influence. Of course that would make her angry, but it would eliminate one of her sources of power. Even better, she didn't automatically realize it was gone.

She did notice the wind spell sliding the ring off of her finger.

Amora leapt up to try to catch it, but crashed into Loki's suspended body. She fell to the side, and Loki used the opportunity to mask and hide the ring as he had with the amulet. He laughed at her shrieks of outrage, and almost didn't feel Skrall pummeling his torso with his fists. "I may have been caught unawares, little girl," Loki sneered, baring his teeth at her, "but you're the one left without any shiny trinkets to play with. You're the one hiding in a dirty cave in the middle of nowhere, with no place to call home. You were the one banished." Of course, he had been as well, but her naming him Odinson meant that she didn't know this. She had been gone for too long from Asgard.

"Skinning you is too good for you," she declared, getting to her feet. "I'll—"

A _frisson_ swept across the cavern, and for a moment Loki thought that his spells wouldn't hold. But they did, and Amora looked immediately to Skrall. "Intruders. Several of them. I don't think any of them are casters." Her lips curled in derision as she contemplated Loki. "They'll meet the golems if they continue much farther. Tie him down and go supervise. I don't want _any_ interruptions to my work."

She held her athame as Skrall seized hold of Loki's immobilized form. He was thoroughly tied down to the slab that had been her work bench with heavy chain, and Amora locked it with an ornate golden key. Lifting her containment spells, Loki was still unable to move or cast anything. The chains were _heavy_ on his body, and he instantly felt trapped. The Other had him again. The Chitauri were waiting to tear him apart and feast on his flesh. Thanos was laughing at him, calling him a foolish child.

Loki barely kept his lips together, not crying out from the onslaught of sudden fear. He looked around as best as he could and saw some kind of stone structure above his head. It looked almost like a serpent's open mouth.

"They say very silly things about you on this world," Amora said brightly, bringing the tip of her athame to his forehead. "But that's all right. We'll make the stories work out in the end, won't we?" The blade sliced through skin so quickly he barely felt it. He did feel the blood fall into his hair, and wondered what she was about to do.

Skrall's voice drifted over from the entrance to the cavern. "I'll take care of the intruders, Enchantress." Loki could hear the disapproval in his tone, heavy and ponderous. He doubted that Skrall cared about him specifically. Did he simply hate the changes that had occurred in Amora since she was exiled from Asgard?

"Of course you will," Amora chirped, looking back down at Loki. She traced more lines into his head, but it didn't seem to be sigils or runes that he could recognize. It made him think of Natasha carving into his skin, the arrow on his chest and the vague designs she had sketched before putting Hel's oils into his blood. Natasha hadn't known the intent of it, and hadn't looked downright gleeful at cutting him. She had been scarily efficient in fact, and it made him think that perhaps she did know how to flay a man alive and then carve his flesh to bone. Amora likely didn't, but thought the threat of it would be terrifying.

She straightened abruptly, athame dropping from her hand. "There _is_ magic out there. Not a caster I recognize, but it's still magic," she murmured, almost forgetting that Loki was even there. "Who—?"

_Natasha._

Loki didn't say anything out loud, but she whipped her head around to face him, eyes wide and wild. Had he ever looked like that? He must have. She must have thought she was hunted, that royal guards from the palace were hunting her. If that was true, she would be running out of time and couldn't perform any leisurely torture sessions as she was dreaming of. Let her think it, the truth was so much more miserable.

"You are nothing, Amora. A child playing at magic, pretending to matter." He curled his lip in disdain, gaze raking over her form with obvious disinterest. He knew she was vain, a coquette who valued herself by what others thought of her. "You have nothing to offer, do you? Even your flesh isn't appetizing."

She howled and raked her nails across his cheek. Loki laughed as if it didn't sting at all, as if he found her amusing and harmless. "Is that the best you can do?" he continued, contempt in his tone. "No wonder Karmilla found you a worthless student."

"I was trained in the beginning by Karmila of Asgard," she began with an angry snarl, yanking at his hair painfully, forcing him to look at her. "But she knew _nothing_ when she cast me out. I scoured the cosmos for those who possessed true magic, not shadows like her. I have devoured the essences of Heinrich of Golgotha, the many lives of the Sibyl, Melampus of Pylos, Väinämöinen, Ilmarinen, Erilaz, Dweomerlak, Inswick the dhvara, and I have learned the ways of the völva."

All right, perhaps she wasn't useless after all. He would never admit such a thing, of course.

Instead, Loki feigned an impressive yawn. She shrieked in anger, yanking on his hair again; he could feel some strands part from his scalp painfully. He heaved a dramatic sigh, and tried to imagine that this was one of Natasha's sessions with him. She was pushing him, trying to make him feel something he wasn't used to feeling. She was trying to draw him out, seduce him with sensations and her body and the vague sense that she was tricking him somehow, he had missed a play of hers. That was part of the draw of her, the challenge of it all. If he could bring her to his side, if he could separate her from her compatriots, then all of this would be worth it somehow. He could bring the entire universe to its knees if she thought him worthy of it. He wouldn't be a failure if he had her by his side.

But she wasn't here, and he had struck her. Guilt flooded through him, choking him, and he knew he could never be worthy of her. She had climbed her way out of her bloody abyss, and he continued to drown in his.

 _Why wasn't she broken?_ He had never been able to solve that puzzle, and trying to win her favor with these magical tokens hadn't given him insight. Natasha was whole and clever, and he was fracturing apart at the seams. He was weak, fragile in ways he could never let anyone see, and she knew it. She knew it, exploited it at every turn, and he let her. He wanted her to do it, craved her touch like a drug.

Even now, Amora cursing his name and his false lineage, he still prayed for Natasha's calming touch and the ability to take him apart and put him back together. She truly was the balm he had named her when they first met, when she had beaten him at his own game.

Loki laughed, mocking himself and the awful timing of it all. If he had met her even a decade earlier, he wouldn't be in this predicament. Perhaps she would look up to him as Jane Foster looked up to Thor. Perhaps he could still name himself a Prince of Asgard, and his purpose would truly be glorious. Odin always claimed magnificent plans, but a King's advisor was not a lowly position at court. He would have been the power behind the throne, the one to shuffle around the pieces in the kingdom under Thor's name. They would have still been brothers, and he wouldn't be alone now.

There was the sense of power around him, spells igniting and layering. This couldn't be good.

A flash of burning pain in his head stopped his laughter. Amora swam into his vision, her eyes sharp and edged with hate. "All of your magic and all of your connections won't save you. You will die a slow and painful death, Loki Odinson. You will scream and beg me for mercy." There was spittle flying from her lips, and he could see the weight of the years in her expression. She wasn't young and beautiful in that instant, but a corpse with skin and animated eyes moving about. "You will get _nothing_ from me, and you will hear me laugh as you scream. I will enjoy every moment you squirm with pain."

Loki flashed her a confident smile he didn't feel. It didn't seem to rattle her in the slightest, and his hopes were immediately dashed. It didn't matter if Natasha was here or not. Amora was going to kill him. It was going to be slow and painful, he was going to be miserable, and there was no getting out of it this time.

And worst of all, he knew he deserved every moment of it.

***

It was difficult for the others to tell where the false walls were or which were going to be stone soldiers forming out of walls. Tony didn't even joke about her new sixth sense about magic, or how the readings on the tracking device were going haywire. Creatures were forming from the very walls of the cavern and attacking them, and it took everything they had to fight. Bruce tried to stay back and out of the way, keeping calm as best as he could; the Hulk in such an enclosed space could possibly trigger a cave-in. That would destroy the golems, sure, but it would also flatten the rest of them.

Natasha was glad that she had brought Loki's swords with her; she knew that they meant something to him, and holding them might remind him of their deal and what humanity he had left. The runes on the blade also meant that she had something to cleave the stone monsters with little to no effort on her part. She led the charge, Tony and Steve behind her. Clint had his arrows and a pistol as backup, but he was mostly trying to make sure that Bruce remained safe and no one was hunting them from the rear.

One of the stone creatures was larger than the others, and approached her when she was separated from the others. "You carry magic," he said in a gravelly tone. "Yet you do not practice it." He carried a double bladed heavy axe, each curved blade razor sharp. The axe was held loosely, but a practiced motion would send it careening into her torso. "Why are you here?"

"Trying to locate Loki," Natasha said honestly. "He's dangerous."

"Not anymore."

That couldn't bode well. "Who are you?"

"Skrall the Executioner. And you?"

The formal title for him seemed to fit. Nodding with respect, Natasha introduced herself. "I am Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow."

He smiled at her, genuinely pleased to hear the title. "I like that. It sounds unassuming, but I'm sure there's quiet menace to it. Much easier to engage with others than 'Executioner.'"

Natasha gave him a faint smile. "Well, engaging was part of the plan. The rest of it involved me being the only one to walk away alive."

Skrall nodded at her, one professional talking to another. It felt surreal. "Such would be the nature of dealing with the Aesir, I suppose. But Loki will not have need of your services. My mistress has business with him and the rest of them. You need not concern yourself."

She thumbed the catch on her sword so that she could easily separate them. "I disagree. He's my business here, and I need him alive."

"Amora plans to kill him, Black Widow. You cannot get him back."

Understanding that he was giving her this information as a courtesy from one professional to another, she nodded her thanks. "Perhaps. But I will not allow her to kill him and burn Asgard to the ground."

He didn't even blink in surprise at the statement, confirming Natasha's suspicions that the rings had warped Loki's desires in that regard. "I am pledged to defend her unto death, no matter the cost and no matter her plans."

Natasha tilted her head to the side. "You don't agree with them."

"She's changed over the millennia of her exile," he said simply. "It was simple to please her once, and there had been kindness in her. Now, she would harm even me if I sought to stand in her way."

"What if someone does it for you?"

"I cannot allow that while I'm alive."

"So we're at an impasse."

Skrall actually looked saddened by that. "It would appear so. There are so few comrades in the trade, Black Widow. It doesn't please me that one of us will die today."

"It doesn't please me, either." She separated the swords and gave him a deep bow of respect, which he reciprocated. "But we do what we must, and keep to our codes of conduct."

He smiled. "A formal challenge. I've missed those."

Natasha returned his smile. "I challenge you to the right to take Amora's life, and to get Loki out of these caverns."

"To the death," Skrall agreed, hefting his axe. "A test of skill and loyalties, then."

It wasn't loyalty that bound her to Loki, not exactly, not in the way that he thought. But she didn't want to clarify that, and merely sank into her usual sword stance. "Let's begin."

Skrall stepped forward, swinging the axe immediately. Natasha ducked and swung both swords, connecting with his torso. The axe whistled over her head, and she kicked at his knee with one boot while throwing herself to the side, tucking into a roll. She fetched up behind Skrall and sliced into his Achilles tendons before the axe completed its turn. He clearly hadn't expected her to move in close for the attack. "Oh," he said, feeling the tips of the swords at his back. "This is how it ends."

"Does it need to?" Natasha asked quietly.

"Yes, it does. I will not stop as long as I am alive."

Natasha lifted her swords from his back, and he immediately started to swing the axe again. It was heavy and slow, but would inflict massive damage. She skipped backward, out of range, which allowed him to get to his feet. "I would rather not kill you if I can avoid it."

"I know. But you can't." He bounced the handle of his axe in one meaty palm. "Don't hold back, Black Widow. It won't end well for you if you don't."

She realized that he was holding himself back. He didn't want to continue. He _wanted_ to die, yet couldn't simply offer his throat on a chopping block. She remembered what that was like, but Skrall wouldn't take a hand offered to him. There was no backing down from his vow to Amora, and he didn't want anything different than the life he had with her. The least she could do was give him his dignity.

Natasha charged forward this time, sliding beneath the swing of his axe. One of the swords sliced through his wrist, forcing him to drop the handle. The blade crashed down into the stone floor, the force of the strike reverberating through his arm. Skrall turned to her as she swung her body around in a circle, bringing up the swords in a scissorlike position, just in front of his neck. He gave her a sad smile and a short nod.

It was over before it had even begun.

With a sigh, Natasha cleaned off the swords on her thigh and stood. Skrall had been blocking the tunnel, which meant she was on the right track to finding Amora and Loki. If he no longer agreed with her plans or supported her, she probably didn't want to simply kill Loki. And really, even Loki had never gone for any straightforward plans. He liked to be seen as a master manipulator, as one whose intelligence surpassed all others. He wanted to dominate, rule and be admired. It was deeply ingrained within him.

Which meant that Amora likely had something devious, complicated and far too messy in mind for him. Just her luck.

Finally, she went through the last layer of illusory rock. On the other side of it was a cavern, its walls smooth and covered with ice. Stalactites came down from the ceiling at irregular intervals, some with lanterns suspended from them and casting an eerie greenish-white glow over everything. A lithe blonde in green was bent over a dais, and she whipped around suddenly as Natasha entered the room. "You're not Skrall," she hissed.

"No, I'm not," Natasha replied smoothly. "You must be Amora."

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she left the dais to approach Natasha. "You're the one with magic. But you're not a caster. You can't enchant or ensorcel. It's... woven somehow, something you can't access."

"I suppose," Natasha replied with a shrug. "I never asked how it worked." She didn't need to know how magic worked, just that it would if she got injured.

"Did you think you could save him?" Amora asked, lips stretching in a grotesque parody of a smile. Natasha saw a bloodied knife at her side, hanging loosely from a loop in her belt, and the green headdress seemed to shimmer in the same way that Loki's magic sometimes seemed to. It gave her blonde hair a haloed look, though this was certainly no angel.

"Did you think I'm some kind of Asgardian?" Natasha countered, tilting her grip on the swords so that they were mostly hidden behind her leg. All Amora would focus on was her nanomesh armor, the pistols and extra magazines strapped to her thighs, the reinforced boots, the knives in their sheaths and the wristlets. She wouldn't necessarily know what the gear was for, but she could see in Natasha's stance that she was trained to fight. Sif was the only female warrior as far as Natasha knew, and Amora looked as though she followed all of the old fashioned beliefs that were still held in Asgard. She wasn't sure if that would buy her a little more time to take stock of the situation or not, but she had to give it a try.

"No," Amora said finally, looking her over. "You don't seem to be." She half turned, then whipped back around with a ball of energy in her hand. She hurled it at Natasha's head, an eerie smile on her face. Natasha ducked out of the way, bending over backward and standing back up once the energy bolt had passed overhead. "But you move like one."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Natasha replied.

"Who are you, then?" she asked, voice a soft purr. It was probably meant to be soothing, as if she hadn't just tried to kill Natasha without asking this.

"I'm the Black Widow," she answered, voice flat.

Amora didn't seem as impressed or honored to hear the title as Skrall had been. It made Natasha feel even worse about killing him, as much as he seemed to want it. He had been honorable, and had done his best for this woman. Amora didn't seem to value anything.

There was a choking sound in the corner, but Natasha didn't need to turn and see who it was in order to identify the voice. "You have Loki." It wasn't a question. "I'm taking him back."

Amora's laughter was high and manic, a sound that was unhinged and sent a chill down her spine. Not another crazy Asgardian. Dealing with the one already was a job in and of itself. She didn't have time for this bullshit.

"No, Widow," she said, voice light and pleasant. "He's mine now. Skrall will return, and he can deal with your impertinence. Or maybe I'll let you watch while I skin him alive." There was a gleeful cast to her features. "It will be _wonderful._ His blood will decorate these halls, and it will be _glorious_ to taste his death." Her smile widened as she contemplated Natasha, a predator's look. "And then your death with come, and I'll be that much stronger for it. I'll have the magic bound into your very bones."

"Skrall's dead," Natasha told her flatly. "You're alone in here."

There was an enraged bellow from the Enchantress, but Natasha easily dodged the energy blast that was sent her way. Amora had to scurry to keep distance between them, which placed her closer to the fires on the opposite side of the entrance. "You'll pay for that, _mortal,"_ she spat, as if it was an insult.

It rolled off her back. No need to be insulted by the truth.

"I'm going to kill you," Natasha declared, staring at Amora. That seemed to unsettle her, and Natasha even smiled her own predator's smile at her. "And then I'm going to take Loki. No one will care that you're dead, and no one will remember you."

Amora reacted as if struck, just as Natasha hoped she would. It unsettled her, and her fingers twitched at her sides. Natasha edged toward the source of the choking sound without looking where she was going. Taking her eyes off of Amora would be a deadly mistake, and she didn't care for him that much.

"No," Amora replied, shaking her head. It sounded as though she was trying to convince herself of that. "Loki is going to die. Then you are going to die." Her eyes glittered, her hands balled into fists at her side. "Then the rest of the House of Odin will be burned when I raze Asgard to the ground!"

Ah. Yes. _That._ The source of Loki's ravings while he was wearing the rings. Amora didn't seem to be wearing any and there was no amulet around her neck. Natasha could only hope it meant that the Enchantress couldn't find them beneath Loki's spells.

Natasha eased slightly into a defensive posture, the connected swords at her side. She couldn't fight against magic, but Amora couldn't fight against her.

They were at an impasse, and both women were determined to win.

The difference was, Natasha knew how to fight dirty, and had no intention of playing fair.

***  
***


	7. Blood Sport

"Mortal mythology is so quaint and amusing, don't you think?" Amora asked, gesturing toward the other side of the cavern with her gloved hands. The cavern walls were slick and impossible to climb with bare hands, and there was a thin layer of ice over most of it anyway. Curled around a huge stalactite was a large serpent, its jaws opened wide to reveal long curved fangs. Natasha could see that they were hollow, and each fang was roughly the size of a scimitar.

Directly beneath it was Loki, heavy black chains wound around his limbs, keeping him in place on a raised dais that had carved runes all along its sides. He occasionally tried to pull at the chains, but was unable to move them.

Natasha glared at Amora with narrowed eyes. "What's the point?"

"The myths talk of multiple children with giantesses, which simply didn't happen. There is no Jörmungandr, Fenrir or Sleipnir. There are no twin sons Narvi and Vali. Such a pity, because other tales tell of how he can be chained with the entrails of his sons." Amora smiled at Natasha, betraying the madness within. "Since there are no sons, metal forged from the heart of a neutron star will simply have to do. It repels magic, so he cannot remove them."

"You didn't put them on him," Natasha said, voice level. Inside, she was _furious_ with Amora and the games she was playing. The serpent fangs would drip some kind of venom or acid, and it would hit Loki in the eyes unless Amora decided to break with tradition and disable some other body part. There was even a small bowl to the side of the dais, made of some kind of material that could withstand the venom.

Amora's visage contorted into one of abject rage. "No. You killed my darling Skrall after he was able to lock Loki into his bonds." She took a golden key out from her décolletage and threw it into one of the fires burning beside her. "You'll pay for that, mortal."

"In that case, I'm just sorry I didn't kill him sooner."

Enraged, Amora lifted her hands to cast a spell. Thinking it was directed at her, Natasha dropped the swords as she rushed forward to knock her down, intending to interrupt the somatic component of the spell. She was surprised when she didn't feel anything, then heard Amora began to laugh. Lifting her head, Natasha frowned down at her. "What?"

"Now you have to decide. Do you take me down, or do you save Loki?"

Following her line of sight, Natasha saw that the serpent's fangs were now starting to drip venom. Great. She was sure that his enchanted armor would hold for a bit, Amora would have seen to that.

Sure enough, the enchantress smirked when Natasha looked back at her. "You must decide, mortal. His spells will sunder, and then he will burn. It will work its way into him and drive him mad, shattering his mind."

"Is that all you wanted?" Natasha cried, incredulous. "In that case, you're too late. His mind is already broken."

Amora didn't like that, and started to lift a hand. Natasha grabbed it with both of hers and bent her fingers backward ruthlessly. It wasn't enough to break bone, but Natasha knew that tendons were being stretched past their limits and likely past their anchors. That would have to do for now. Amora shrieked in pain, twisting beneath Natasha to try to shimmy her way out. It wasn't working, and Natasha twisted her wrist for good measure. "You forgot that there are other options, Amora," she hissed. "I kill you _and_ save him."

"You can't stop my spells."

She had a point, as much as Natasha was loath to admit it. "Maybe not, but I can block the tubing." She grinned at Amora, a sharp bearing of teeth. "Want to see if I can?"

"You can't."

"Just watch me."

Natasha gave Amora a vicious shake, striking her head on the floor before letting go. She went for the discarded sword on the ground and thumbed the catch as she picked it up. It was charmed to cut through anything, after all, and she would likely need it again. If the chains were anti-magic, the sword probably couldn't cut through it. "Protect Loki," she murmured to the sword. A handful of the runes activated. Aiming carefully, Natasha threw it up into the air to try to block one of the fangs. It flew true, blocking one of the fangs completely. That still left one, which was centered over Loki's chest. He looked at her, desperation in his eyes, appearing too frightened to even speak.

It was all up to her, in other words.

Amora was shakily getting to her feet, so Natasha approached with half of the sword tucked behind her back. "Too bad you only have one sword," the enchantress sneered.

"And too bad you don't have anyone to do your dirty work anymore," Natasha said, throwing a punch. It landed right on her nose, and there was the satisfying crunching sound that Natasha was hoping to hear.

Holding her right hand awkwardly, Amora held her face, eyes watering. "You... bitch!"

Natasha rolled her eyes as she heaved a sigh. "Really? Magic, longevity and technological enhancements compared to the human race, and that is the best you can come up with? Of course Loki would never stay with you. You're pathetic."

Her left hand was still intact, and Amora lifted it, tightening her fingers. Natasha was yanked forward, and she dropped the sword in her surprise. Shit. She was suspended in front of Amora, who was trying to stop the bleeding in her face with her mangled right hand. "Is this pathetic, you lowly human worm?"

"Yes, it is," she replied with a smile.

Knowing that Amora wouldn't expect it, Natasha grabbed her breastplate to pull herself closer. The average person would have pulled away, and Amora likely had a defense against that with her magic. She had no hand to hand experience, and she was already wounded on top of that. Natasha head butted her in the nose, making her scream. Not pausing, she dropped low and grasped Amora's leg. Pulling on it sharply, the enchantress was literally pulled off of her feet, her back slamming into the stone floor. The sword was somewhere behind her, and Natasha wasn't about to waste time and go back for it when Amora was still capable of magic. Somatic and verbal components, Loki had said to her once. Well, her right hand was out of commission, so Natasha would have to disable her left.

Straddling Amora, Natasha grasped the enchantress' left hand and systematically broke each finger. She ignored the screaming and grimly stared down at her. "For what little time you have left, know that it was a _mortal_ that took you down. No magic, no feats of strength, no artifacts to draw from. It was just _me."_

Natasha was distracted for a split second by Loki beginning to scream and writhe beneath the enchanted chains. It was enough for Amora to push her off, though the enchantress had tears and blood pouring down her face. "You can't save him. The key is destroyed."

"There's more than one way to open a lock," Natasha replied flatly.

"I won't help you," she sneered.

"I don't need you," Natasha said.

She kicked out, catching Amora in the knee. She fell to her opposite knee, a strangled scream caught in her throat. Natasha grasped her by the breastplate and picked her up so that they were at eye level. "You are _nothing,_ Amora," Natasha told her. "Without your magic, without someone to be your muscle, you have nothing to rely on. You have no spine, no faith, no conviction. You are empty and useless, and you know that." She pulled off Amora's choker and gave her a grim smile. "Don't worry, I'll put you out of your misery."

Before Amora could speak, Natasha leaned forward and bit the side of her throat. Her teeth broke through the skin, and she continued until her teeth met. Tearing her face away from Amora's throat, Natasha spat out the chunk of flesh. She could see exposed cartilage beneath the pulsing blood flowing from the severed artery. Unable to even scream, Amora fell to the ground with wide, helpless eyes. She watched as Natasha walked back for the sword and picked it up. She bounced it a little, getting used to its heft again, then swung.

Amora's head came cleanly off of her neck, and even the stone beneath the body was cut. Natasha shifted her grip on the sword to cut into Amora's chest, then ripped out her heart and tossed it into the closest fire.

Now she turned her attention to Loki. He was screaming in pain, pulling ineffectually against the chains that bound him. Natasha approached, her hands and face bloody, the sword in hand. She tried swinging it, but it was as she suspected. The sword didn't even connect, rebounding off the chain and sending vibrations along her arm. Hauling Amora's dead weight to cover the spill wouldn't be a timely solution, and she had no idea how long it would take for the acid to burn through Amora's corpse. There was no way around Amora's little trap than to fulfill the role of Sigyn from the Norse myths.

With a sigh, Natasha dropped the sword and picked up the bowl, holding it steady to collect the venom. Loki's breathing was harsh, and he had a haunted expression when he looked at her. "I never did like this tale," he rasped, looking at her.

"Can't say this is my favorite thing to do," Natasha agreed. The bowl wasn't very big, and there was nothing nearby even remotely bowl-shaped. Amora certainly had wanted Loki to suffer.

Loki drew in a rasping breath. "Why are you here, Natasha? Why help me? Why fight her? I give you no cause to aid me like this." His chest hitched, and his eyes looked up toward the open fang dripping venom. "I've wronged you. Many times. I do not deserve your aid."

"No, you don't."

"So why are you here?" he asked, agony in his voice. "You could go, leave me here to rot. Is it not what you and your compatriots wished? That I meet just punishment? That I pay for my crimes? Is this not exactly what you wanted?"

"No, it's not," Natasha said quietly. "Yes, you are a complete and utter bastard. Yes, you have killed and maimed without a thought. You have no idea what consequences are, and you feel that others should be subject to them. But this isn't punishment, Loki. This is torture, and she wasn't doing this to punish you for your crimes. She did this because she was being petty."

"But the ends are the same, are they not?" he asked, voice more like a strangled sob. "I am punished for my evil deeds, and I pay for the crimes I have committed. I am stopped from further misdeeds, and the nine realms are safe from me. Is this not better?"

"Punishment means you ultimately learn a lesson," Natasha said, voice soft.

"I am learning now, am I not? I spurned her advances, belittled her craft, refused to share my knowledge with her. I stole from her." Now he did sob, closing his eyes. "You worked so hard to create a ledger I could view. I once said yours was dripping with red, gushing with blood." His breath rattled in his chest, and Natasha shifted her head to peer into his wound. It wasn't healing, and looked as though the venom was etching its way through bone. "If yours is gushing, mine is a raging river of blood. I'm drowning in it, Natasha, and I deserve to be."

"Or you can choose."

Loki scoffed, eyes opening as he shook his head. "You really believe you can wipe out that much red? You believe in your innocents..."

"You can choose what to do with your power. You can choose how your influence is used. It can bring balance to the realms, lessen the extent of your crimes. Or you can choose to compound it, really becoming the monster that you fear you are."

"I _am_ a monster. You cannot deny that."

"Because of the choices you made. It's not your birth as a Jotun that does it. It's the choices you made along the way that were monstrous." Natasha checked the brim of the bowl. "Oh."

"It's close to the top, is it not?" he asked, naked fear in his voice.

"Yes, it is." Natasha looked over the chains. "Magic won't cut or break them. She was rather proud of that fact."

"I tried, and it didn't work." Loki drew in a shuddering breath. "You could still leave me."

"And what would that choice make me?"

He gave her a watery smile, eyes shimmering with tears. "Human."

"She destroyed the key," Natasha began.

"So I am lost."

"I wasn't bluffing when I told her there are other ways to open locks. She probably never heard of lock picking."

"Which you know how to do."

"Of course." She nodded away from the dais. "You can probably create a pick set, can't you? I don't think you could recreate the key. I didn't get that good a look at it before she destroyed it, and I doubt it's simple. I don't think standard lock pick guns would work on this."

"Of course there are guns for that," Loki said, nearly laughing despite his pain.

"Lock pick sets will include straight picks, hooked picks, ones with rounded ends and triangular ones..." She eyed the bowl. "I can get maybe one or two more drops before I have to dump it out, I'm sorry."

Loki gulped. "Work quickly, Natasha," he pleaded, creating a set of tools to her left.

Once they manifested, Natasha pulled the bowl away and tipped it over, spilling the acidic venom onto the ground. It hissed and dissolved some of the rock, and she scooped up the tools with her right hand. It was a little more difficult to hold the bowl steady with one hand, but she managed it as she unrolled the toolkit. "Not bad," she commented, seeing the tools laid out in front of her. "Gold plated, even."

"Solid gold," he corrected huffily, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. "If I'm to create something like that, they might as well be of value."

Natasha snorted and selected a straight pick to start poking at the lock. After a few seconds, she frowned. "There are eight pins in there."

"What does that mean?"

"I'll need both hands."

"That material is the same as the chains," he said softly. "It's resistant to magic, so I can't levitate it for you."

Sighing, Natasha put down the pick. "Of course you can't. Because she wants you to suffer."

Loki swallowed, then tilted his face toward her. "Why didn't you give her a choice, Natasha?"

"What?" she asked with a frown, picking up the hooked pick. She could probably get two pins, but not much more than that.

"You gave me a choice with that blasted ledger. Why didn't you give Amora that same choice?"

"Because between the two of you, she's the monster that can't be redeemed." At his confused look, she sighed again. "You've killed out of malice and spite, out of lack of concern, and because you can't comprehend consequences applying to you or your plans. Mortals are just bystanders. Numbers. Faceless creatures that don't matter."

"Hardly a ringing endorsement of my person."

"Because it isn't," Natasha returned, ignoring his sarcastic tone. "I didn't say you didn't do monstrous things. But you don't enjoy it. You don't kill for the sake of killing, or torture others for the sheer joy of it. While you may suggest such a thing, it's to wound whoever you're talking to. You don't actually get off on killing. You want to rule, not kill."

"Same thing."

"No, it's very different. In our deal, you don't have to kill me, do you?" He blanched, remaining silent. "You don't," Natasha continued, sticking the hooked pick into the lock so she wouldn't have to look at his expression. "You get what you need, and it works. That's what you want, not to see humans twisted inside out or writhing in pain just because you can. Groveling, maybe, I'll give you that, but not because you like seeing misery."

"Do you truly know my heart, then?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know that much about you, Loki," she said softly. Twisting her wrist, she got the second pin in place, but the edge of the hook slipped past the third. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. She looked back at Loki. "I really do need my other hand to do this right. I can get two pins in the lock this way, but not all eight."

He took a steadying breath, but she could see how deathly pale he was. "I'm ready," he whispered. Natasha could see the terror in his eyes, the fine tremor in his lips.

"On three," she murmured, tensing. "One... Two... Three."

Natasha dumped the venom to the side and shifted her body so that she was over his torso, both hands positioned over the lock and gold tools. There was a five second gap between drops of venom—she had counted them out as the bowl had filled the first time—so she had two seconds to pick up a straight pick and hook the third pin before the venom hit her back.

"What are you doing?!" Loki cried, pushing at the chains as if he could dislodge her.

She hissed in pain, eyes squeezing shut and hands spasming as the venom burned through her nanomesh. _"святой ебет что болит!"_ she cried, twitching. Shit, she lost the pins. There was enough time to suck in a shuddering breath before the next drop hit her back, and _fuck,_ no wonder Loki had been screaming. It was hitting a spot right next to her right shoulder blade, and if she wasn't careful, the venom would burn through all of the muscle and hit her bones. She couldn't tell for certain, but she didn't feel the itch of the healing kicking in. This was going to be a problem, then.

Loki was babbling, asking her what the hell was she thinking, she couldn't do this, he wasn't worth that, she had to move and leave him behind.

 _"Shut the fuck up and let me concentrate!"_ she growled as another drop hit her back.

Repositioning herself slightly, she hooked the first two pins with the hook pick and pushed over the third with the straight pick before the next drop hit. She made a choked sound, but didn't lose the pins. Thank whatever god was looking over her at that moment. It didn't even matter to her that she was whimpering in pain between drops, that her hands were shaking. Even the Red Room hadn't had access to pain induction like this. Nothing she had ever experienced hurt like this, even nearly being burned alive.

When Natasha lost the fifth pin with a frenzied twitch, she nearly cried out in dismay. "Please don't do this," Loki pleaded beneath her. "Move, Natasha, please. I can't watch you do this to yourself. I can't let you scar like this. _Please._ For whatever you consider holy, for your self-control, for everything, _please move."_

She choked and twitched when another drop hit her back, and she lost all of the pins she was trying to save. There was no way she could get all eight this way, not before she lost the muscle attachments and bone. Blinking back tears, Natasha shifted slightly and looked at Loki. Taking a deep breath, she touched her forehead to his. "Remember when I gave you that ledger? The burn of the oil?" she asked, voice hoarse from all the screams she didn't voice.

"I remember," Loki replied softly.

"If we do this," she began, hissing at another drop hitting her back. "It's pain play. Do you understand me? You will endure this for me. We're going to push you past your limits, and then we're going to fix it." Natasha couldn't help the moan of pain that escaped her when another drop hit her back. "Do you understand me, Loki?" He nodded, tears in his eyes. "You remember our safe word, then?" she asked.

"I can't use it," Loki sobbed, twisting beneath the chains. "Natasha, I can't use it."

Natasha shut her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. "It's just a scene, Loki. Okay? It's pain play. We're going to see where your limits are."

"I'm ready," he lied, choking when she spasmed again.

She moved quickly out from under the steady drops of venom and set to work with the picks, trying not to flinch when he howled with pain. He jerked involuntarily, so she lost the fifth pin almost as soon as she got it. "Hold your wrists still," she barked, panic rising. She wasn't sure if she could pull the trick with the sword again, so everything was riding on her ability to pick this lock open. The sword was on the ground, crusted in Amora's blood, and its runes had looked dull somehow without its twin. No, she didn't think its magic would hold anymore.

Loki screamed and kicked his feet ineffectually as he tried to remember how to breathe through the pain. He whimpered and chanted in Alltongue or English, even a smattering of Russian, which she found flattering. Natasha worked as quickly as she could, adding more picks to the lock when she couldn't quite keep them in place with the picks she had. She tried to sing softly to him, as she usually did to help soothe his crashes, but her voice couldn't carry the tune. "What are we going to play when we're out of here?" she tried, hoping she could distract him from the steady drips of venom.

"Maybe we won't play," he whimpered, panting during his five second reprieve. "Maybe I'll just hide for a time, until the burn stops."

As Natasha opened her mouth to reply, another drop hit his open wound. He arched his back and screamed in agony, making her flinch. Holding her picks with her left hand, she grabbed another pick with her right and jammed it into the lock. "We'll go on vacation," she said firmly. "Fuck everyone else, I think we should have some time somewhere quiet."

Whimpering, Loki squeezed his eyes shut. "Where?" he breathed.

"Got you, you bastard," she growled at the lock, finally hooking the sixth pin. "I was in the Bahamas once," she told Loki, repositioning her hands to hold the third pick with her left hand. "Have you ever been there? Beaches and sun, water so clear and turquoise."

He howled and jerked with another drop of the venom, and she nearly lost the sixth pin when he spasmed. Natasha briefly thought of admonishing him, but decided against it. He couldn't tap out with their safe word, it really wasn't fair of her to add to this. She blotted out the sight of his tears and grabbed another pick. "Or do you prefer somewhere cold? Your havens are all ice." She poked and prodded at the lock, dimly aware of footsteps echoing in the distance. Her entire world was narrowed down to the golden picks at the lock, her ragged heartbeat and Loki's tortured screams every five seconds.

"I have the blood of frost giants," he panted, nearly sobbing. "Norns, I can't," he whimpered, head thrashing back and forth. "I want to call out our word."

"You're doing so well," she whispered, leaning forward. Her own vision was blurry with tears, and she blinked them back. Not that she needed them to feel the pressure in the pins, but because she didn't want him to see them. She had to be his domme, and his domme wouldn't cry at the pain she inflicted. "Just a little further, Loki. You can do it, I know you can. Do this for me, okay? Just a little more, I'm almost there."

He howled, but she managed to push the seventh pin under the other picks already in the lock. It was getting too crowded in the damn thing, as big as it was, so she couldn't add another pick. Carefully maneuvering the fourth pick, she tried to find the eighth pin. "You can do it, Loki," she whispered. "Just a little more. One more pin, I promise. I'm almost done."

Loki sobbed openly, and Natasha could hear footsteps on the stone flooring. "Just one more pin, Loki. One more," she promised, still maneuvering the pin in the lock. She couldn't find it, and a flash of blind panic flooded through her. _She couldn't find the pin!_

In her panic, she nearly lost one of the picks in her left hand. "Get something to catch the venom," she shouted at whoever was entering the cavern. She prayed to whatever god might be listening that it was one of the Avengers.

It was Clint. She caught a flash of purple near her; he had found the discarded bowl and was holding it up to catch the venom.

"Hold it carefully," she warned him, looking for the eighth pin. "That shit's like acid."

"God, Tash, your back," he gasped, catching sight of her. She didn't even want to know what it looked like at this point.

"What the hell is that made of?" Tony asked, approaching and scanning everything.

"The chains are from the heart of a neutron star," Natasha replied tersely, carefully looking for that eighth pin. It was in there somewhere, hidden between all the picks she already had in the lock. "Heavy as hell, resistant to magic."

"I want some," Tony said, completing his scan. She didn't bother to check what he was doing next, likely scanning the acid just to see what it was made of.

"These chains come back with me," she growled, carefully withdrawing the fourth pick. She couldn't poke into one of the corners without disturbing the second pick, and she absolutely couldn't allow that. "In case I need to restrain him."

Tony paused. "You know, I don't think I want to know."

"No, you don't," Natasha said as she carefully reinserted the fourth pick.

There were more footsteps in the distance. Lighter now, more hesitant. Likely Bruce. Then another pair, heavier and surer, likely Steve's. Natasha was glad that Thor wasn't on earth at the moment. He would have roared and tried to use Mjolnir, and the hammer wouldn't have done a damn thing on the chains.

"Um..." Clint began uncertainly after a while. "What do I do when the bowl is full?"

"Use her head," Natasha snapped, nodding in the direction of Amora's body. She almost had the eighth pin, she couldn't lose her focus now.

"Shit, that's cold," Tony muttered, sounding shocked.

"Then use her body," Natasha said, still not looking up. "I would've if I thought I could carry it over here fast enough."

"Uh, why is there a hole in her chest?" Bruce asked, his voice off in the distance, in the rough direction of her body.

"Because when dealing with magicians, fairy tale logic is best applied," Natasha replied tersely, pushing the fourth pick a little further in. "You take off the head and burn the heart."

"I thought that was vampires," Steve asked. His voice wasn't quite as far away as Bruce's, and she hoped that he was bringing back Amora's body to hold over Loki as a shield.

"Works for all kinds of dark creatures."

"You are one piece of work," Tony said, his voice from somewhere above them. "I think I'm very afraid of you."

"Smart," she muttered, pushing the pick a little further in. Was that the eighth pin?

"On the count of three," Clint said. "One... Two... Three!"

The shout of pain that Natasha almost expected didn't come. She risked a glance up and saw that Bruce and Steve were holding Amora's body over Loki's so Clint could dump out the bowl safely to the side. She let out a breath and met Loki's relieved eyes. "I think I have the last pin," she murmured, pushing on the pick a little more.

_Click._

The lock fell open, and Natasha quickly shifted her grip on the picks so that she could pull open the hasp. Unhooking it from the heavy chains, she pulled out the picks and tossed the thing aside with extreme prejudice. She yanked the chains from Loki's arms as best as she could, adrenaline surge making her stronger than usual. She pulled at his arms until he kicked off the top of the dais, helping her drag his body out from under the rest of the chains. It was awkward, horrible and probably causing him even more pain, but the others were too stunned to help her.

Loki fell on top of her, and he buried his face in her chest and sobbed pitifully, holding onto her for dear life. Natasha stroked his hair and held him steady, letting him cry it out. "You did well, Loki. You did it. It's okay now," she murmured. The others could hear her, but that didn't matter right now. He needed to hear that. He needed to know it was over.

Tony landed near the dais as Amora's body was dropped. "What am I looking at?" he asked, flipping open his faceplate. He looked utterly dumbfounded.

Natasha's arms tightened around Loki possessively. "You didn't see this part," she said, voice firm. "Whatever report they ask you to make, this isn't part of it." If anything, Loki sobbed harder, his grip on her brutally tight.

Clint, Bruce and Steve nodded right away, no questions asked. Tony looked at her helplessly, arms spread wide. "I don't even know what the hell I'm looking at. How can I write up something I don't know? And besides, you know I don't pay attention to anything Pirate Fury tells me to do," he scoffed.

Nodding with gratitude, Natasha let out the breath she was holding. "That was torture," she said slowly, looking directly at the dais. They were all studiously ignoring the hiss of the venom burning a hole in Amora's torso. "Acid, to look like Norse myths."

"Damn," Tony said softly, looking up at the stone snake. He looked around the room, his hand almost rising unconsciously toward his chest. "I think we've all been tortured here at some point. Except maybe Capsicle. Unless you count war?" he asked, looking over at Steve.

"Don't," Steve warned, glowering at Tony.

"Yeah, I guess it counts." He reached over and began coiling the heavy chain as if it was twine. "All right, Natasha. You want this stuff, you got it. Want the gold lock picks?"

"Fancy," Clint commented when she nodded. He watched her as she continued to stroke Loki's head and massage his scalp.

"They do the job. Can you hold them for me?"

He collected them as Tony got the rest of the chain. "So. Um. Do we help you guys up?" Bruce asked, looking at them a little uncomfortably.

Natasha wasn't sure if Loki would even be able to walk in his current state. He definitely wouldn't tolerate another's touch. "Loki? Can you teleport us all out of here?"

Drawing in an unsteady breath, he lifted his head. "If you ask me to."

"I'm asking you to," she said gently. "Somewhere safe, so you can rest."

"Then I'll try." His head fell to her breast. "Rest." He let out a shaky breath, eyes closing as he pictured where he wanted to go. "I wasn't given any before."

Before anyone could ask about that whispered comment, they were teleported to Natasha's bedroom. She and Loki were lying on her bed. Steve was in her closet, Bruce perched on the edge of her dresser. Clint crashed into her hamper and tripped backward off of it as Tony stumbled backward over the armchair she had. He let go of the chain, and it fell into the corner of the room with a heavy thud.

"Okay," Natasha said, voice weaker than she would have liked. At least they were here and not in the Astoria safe house. "Everybody out. He needs to rest."

Loki cried out when she rose from the bed. "Please," he whispered. "Stay. Don't leave me alone."

Clint was staring at Loki as if puzzle pieces were slotting into place. "I remember," he said slowly, carefully. "You looked sick, and someone was pulling on your strings then. They tortured you, didn't they? Because the Chitauri weren't yours."

"It doesn't matter now," Loki sighed, falling to his side on Natasha's bed. "None of it matters."

"We'll talk later," Natasha promised him. He nodded, and the Avengers quietly filed out of her bedroom. "Clint?" she called out as he was about to shut the door. "Contact Thor." She ignored Loki's panicked protests. "We'll need Frigga's help for healing this wound." He nodded and then shut the door quietly.

She rolled Loki onto his back as the door closed and gently tried to pry his clothing away from the raw looking wound in his chest. She tried not to imagine what her own back looked like, but the ache and weakness in her right arm was a troubling reminder. The edges of the wound looked raw and sticky, not quite like what acid did to flesh. She tried not to think about why she knew what acid burns normally looked like. "Hey," she murmured. "You're safe now."

Loki's eyes fluttered shut, and he struggled to breathe evenly. "You command them."

"No, I just asked. Maybe not nicely," she admitted, letting go of his clothing. "I should have probably said please. But they'll still help out." They were her friends, though she didn't want to admit that out loud to him. In an angry moment, he could probably use it against her.

"How does this not break you? None of it affects you."

"It does," Natasha murmured, tucking herself into the crook of his arm opposite his chest wound, her left arm wedged between them. She rested her head on his left shoulder and let her own eyes shut. "Everything affects me, I just never let anyone else see it."

"It's tiring," he murmured, fingers of his left hand twitching at her waist. "And it hurts."

"Yes, it does," she agreed softly.

"I don't want to hurt anymore," Loki whispered. "Everything hurts too much."

"Just close your eyes and sleep for now," Natasha advised him. "Frigga will arrive, and that should help with our wounds. Then at least the physical pain can stop."

"She shouldn't see me like this," Loki said, his voice breaking. "I've wronged her as much as I've wronged you."

"You've wronged a lot of people," she replied, not sure what else to say.

"Yet you still came after me. You saved me, when you could have left me there."

"I couldn't have, not without becoming like her," Natasha murmured. She was dimly aware of the dried blood still on her skin, but couldn't be bothered to get up and move. She would simply have to wash it off later.

"I'm sorry. For everything I've done, for whatever else I might do, I'm sorry," Loki said. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, the self condemnation he had.

Natasha pushed herself up onto her left elbow and looked down at him. He was near tears, and looked downright pitiful. When he healed, he would hate this moment of weakness. He might take it out on her later, he might not. But for right now, he meant it. "I accept your apology," she said, slowly pushing the syllables out of her mouth. "I still remember everything."

"As do I," he murmured, eyes sliding shut.

She lowered herself back down. For now, that seemed to be the best that they could do.

The End


End file.
